


Enthrall

by courtingkaleidoscopes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Consent Issues, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtingkaleidoscopes/pseuds/courtingkaleidoscopes
Summary: Noctis doesn't realize the first time, or the second. By the third, he's getting suspicious. How is he still alive?Or: FFXV, a severely different tale. Noctis struggles, Ardyn schemes, nobody dies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After searching in vain, I took pen to paper. This fix-it has two main objectives: (1) Everyone lives. (2) And they will be happy doing so, damn it. Yes, Ardyn. Even you.
> 
> Throughout this work, I use (parentheses) to indicate Noctis's tangential thoughts and _italics_ to denote his inner voice. I don't anticipate it being confusing, but probably best to be clear.
> 
> Credit to [this document](http://jonphaedrus.tumblr.com/post/157473562602/ardyn-izunia-is-so-performatively-homosexual-i) which, after a thorough read, convinced me that Ardyn does actually have a fucked up leg. I strongly encourage you to check it out yourself. 
> 
> Other research mainly came from the final fantasy wiki. You'll note some lines directly came from the game, as I wanted to be accurate. This repetition will be kept to a minimum, especially as the overlap between canon and this story quickly diminishes.
> 
> (Spoiler: this story is going to be _long_.)

{

It’s the mine that does it. Yes, the elevator had seemed unreliable. Yes, the woman at the entrance had mentioned something about a key they don’t have. But Gladio had basically dared him, and Noctis couldn’t just _leave_ after that.

The spooky mine carts were fine (more than fine, Prompto’s reactions were _great_ ), the goblins were fine (easy targets, and a thrilling bit of hide and seek), falling off the tracks was (more or less) fine.

The Aramusha is not fine.

“NOOOCT!” Ignis yells as Noctis realizes they’re out of phoenix down.

}{

To his great surprise, Noctis is alive.

“Finally awake! You just had to go down there, didn’t you?”

The woman who had been at the entrance towers over him, hands on hips.

“Um,” Noctis blinks, squinting against the glaring sun. He tries to get up, and slips on a pile of...limbs?

“Ough,” Prompto comments, a tuft of blond hair beneath Gladio’s enormous bicep and Ignis’s torso. He gropes around, managing to grab a fistful of Noctis’s jacket. “Gerroff,” Prompto insists, poking blindly with his other hand. He finds Ignis’s nose.

“Highn--” Ignis coughs, stumbling to his feet. He adjusts his glasses and smooths down his rumpled shirt, gaze quickly darting between the woman and Noctis. “Are you all right, Noct?”

Surprisingly, he is, more or less. And so are Gladio and Prompto, once they manage to disentangle themselves.

“I suppose we owe you our thanks, Miss…?” Ignis directs at the woman.

“Oh, you owe me a bit more than that,” the woman scoffs, seemingly oblivious to the question. “I’ve been watching you sorry boys for the last one hundred twenty nine minutes! Now what could I have done with that time?”

Somehow, they’re roped into collecting insects for this woman--Sania, who was not the one responsible for ‘dragging your dusty asses out of that daemon-ridden mine.’ That’s all the useful information they (just Gladio, really) manage to get out of her before she threatens further tasks upon them and they beat a hasty retreat.

“Ugh, you guys are so heavy,” Prompto groans, flopping into the passenger seat. “Let’s not do that again.”

“You good?” Gladio asks. Noctis stops rubbing at his chest.

“Yeah.” Nothing feels broken, but something is...different. Maybe it’s just the effects of coming back from (the brink of) death, and then baking in the sun for two hours. “So...how did we get out of there?”

Nobody seems to know. Nobody seems to remember anything after they very unambiguously lost the fight with the Aramusha.

“Let’s go straight to Galdin Quay,” Ignis suggests. “We can stock up on curatives.”

 _Phoenix down,_ he doesn’t say. _His Highness’s wits,_ he also doesn’t say. Noctis slides down in his seat. It’s Gladio’s fault, (not) really. “Sorry,” Noctis mumbles.

A large hand pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” Gladio grunts. He’s glaring and there’s a muscle working in his jaw, but he’s not looking at anyone or anything in particular.

There’s not much conversation until they get to the quay.

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

A stranger, dressed in even stranger clothes. And so many of them, while Noctis is practically melting in a short sleeved jacket. He saunters in a carefully careless sway. Dressed for the role and playing the part.

“Are we,” Noctis doesn’t quite manage politely.

A shadow of--something--mars the man’s calm demeanor.  “Quite.” In a blink, it’s gone. “The boats bring you here.”

“What about ‘em?” Prompto...prompts.

Noctis does not groan. F for narration, Noct.

“Well. They’ll not take you forth.”

Gladio edges towards the stranger, shoulders pulling slightly ahead of Noctis’s. “And what’s your story?”

“I’m an impatient traveler, ready to turn ship. The ceasefire’s getting us nowhere,” he drawls, executes a lazy turn, and something hurtles towards Noctis’s face--

Gladio catches it, and it tears through his heart. A small coin. A simmering hatred. Something is happening around him. Prompto is excited, Gladio is now very firmly between himself and this strange man with an accent from nowhere and everywhere, and--

Noctis flinches. He stops rubbing his chest.

“Highness?” Ignis’s voice comes from far away, left, right, in his ear. “Noct?”

“I’m fine!” Noctis gasps. Ignis’s hand is on his back. Prompto’s brow has a little crease, and his mouth is moving. Gladio is ushering them backwards. Halfway down the dock, the stranger turns his head--

And meets Noctis’s gaze. His lip curls into a smirk. Amusement.

“--room for the night. Four keys, please.” The clear and precise syllables cut in, and suddenly the restaurant is chattering away around them again. Ignis’s hand around the keys, Prompto’s arm around Noctis’s shoulder, steering him into the hotel.

“Fine, I’m fine,” Noctis finds himself saying.

“Noct. You aren’t convincing anyone.” Gladio presses Noctis firmly down to sitting on the nearest bed.

“Deep breaths,” Ignis encourages.

The bed dips beside him. Prompto. “What happened? Did you hurt your ribs?” Prompto grabs Noctis’s hand, pulling it away from his chest.

“It…” inhale… “doesn’t hurt.” Exhale.

“He’s been doing that since we left the mine,” Gladio grunts.

“How does it feel, then?” Prompto asks.

“It’s…” numb? Cold? Burning? “...tight.”

“Any pain elsewhere?” Ignis asks sharply. “Dizziness? Nausea?”

Noctis shakes his head. “Probably just...tired,” he suggests.

“We did pull an all-nighter down there,” Prompto adds hopefully, brows still knit in a not-quite-convinced frown.

A brief silence.

“Let’s try to get some sleep,” Ignis allows.

}{

The port really is closed. No ferries, lots of disgruntled travelers, and one covetous, vaguely threatening reporter. Yeah, all right, we’ll get your stone for you.

“Feeling all right?” Ignis asks.

“Yeah.” The unquantifiable sensation is gone, replaced by a lingering embarrassment every time the question is asked. It really hadn’t been a big deal. Perhaps some unknown royal power of his had caused it, after also pulling them out of the Balouve Mines. Power of being a royal pain in the ass, maybe. “Don’t worry about it.”

They eventually find the stone. They also find a “giant fucking terror hurricane,” as Prompto puts it. They celebrate the bird’s flight and the stone’s acquisition, just before a shadow falls as something rapidly approaches from--

“Above us!” Ignis shouts.

Never mind.

}{

“Noct? Hey, buddy, say something.”

The world comes rushing in. Noctis’s head is cradled in Prompto’s lap. The hurricane bird is nowhere to be found.

“Something,” Noctis croaks.

“Oh, thank the Six. Man, when that thing smashed you on the rocks like that…” Prompto swallows. “I thought you were a goner.”

Noctis winces, slowly sitting up.

“Pretty sure you were, actually,” Prompto says weakly.

There’s...nothing wrong with his arm, which he was certain had been broken in at least two places. There’s also no talon piercing his chest--just a familiar tightness.

“I will have _words_ with that reporter,” Ignis declares.

}{

It happens again after the bandersnatch. Noctis isn't even sure why he decides to pursue it, instead of doing the logical thing and going around it. Of course, they never had a chance of winning this fight. (Maybe that's why he fought it.)

"Next time," Gladio manages as they run away, grinding his teeth, "Maybe try waiting for the rest of us. Before you throw yourself at the next death machine. You remember us? Your Crownsguard?"

"Sorry, big guy," Noctis grins, blood still singing in his veins and through the pressure in his chest. Gladio grunts, cuffing him on the head.

"I didn't realize," Prompto pants, jogging in one last burst to the Regalia, "this trip would be...so exciting. Man, I'm dying of thirst."

"I'm starving to death." Noctis falls into the car, exhaustion starting to catch up to him.

"And yet we're all very much alive," Ignis says dryly, starting the engine.

Of course they are. Noctis hesitates. "Guys, I think..." _I died a few times? I can't die?_

"Hmm? You say something, Noct?" Gladio asks.

"It's nothing."

“I understand you’re excited to be out of the Citadel, Noct. Just try to remember why we’re here,” Ignis comments.

Luna. Noctis smiles. “How could I forget?” It’s probably time to quit messing around. They’ve run out of beasts to fight in Leide, at this point. Still, that reporter can get them a boat straight to Altissia, so there’s no rush, right?

}{

Wrong. Very, very wrong.

_Insomnia Falls._

It can’t be true.

“Go back?” Prompto asks quietly.

Noctis can only agree.

}{

“He’s alive?” Of course his father is alive. Around him, his friends are a commotion of delighted noises and relief.

“Yes,” Cor’s voice says in scratchy static. “I’m with him now.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Not yet,” Cor’s measured words finally break through Noctis’s ecstatic haze. “The attack took a lot out of him.” A pause. “He’s still hanging in there.”

“Where are you? I need” _have to, before it’s too late, maybe I can help_ “to see him.”

There’s some mumbling on the other end. “Go back to your first destination. If you want the whole truth, you know where to find me.”

They take no detours this time. Ignis floors it, and there’s Hammerhead, and there’s Cor, who gestures inside without a word.

“Dad,” Noctis breathes. He falls to his knees beside the narrow bed upon which Regis rests, eyes closed and hands clasped. Noctis can see the years and fatigue in the many lines of his father’s face, in the ever lighter gray of his hair--can feel it in his (nine?) dry, gnarled fingers, cold and worn. He looks _old,_ like a decade has passed since Noctis last saw him. But his chest rises and falls, and his pulse taps steadily beneath Noctis’s hands.

“What happened?” he asks.

Cor’s voice is low, quiet. Gladio’s arms are crossed as he leans against the doorway. Ignis stands beside but not over Noctis at the head of the bed. Prompto sits in the far corner, fidgeting with his wristband and looking anywhere but directly at the king. Cor tells them of the army, the betrayal, the false treaty. Niflheim captured the Crystal, cut the ring from the king’s hand, and took Insomnia. And the king has yet to awaken.

“But he’ll be okay,” Noctis states, daring Cor to contradict him.

“We’re all hoping for the best,” Cor admits, but nothing further. “To the northwest, there’s a place--Keycatrich Ruins. Inside lies a royal--”

“No,” Noctis’s grip tightens. “I’m not leaving him.”

Cor’s hand comes to rest on Noctis’s shoulder. His eyes are softer now. “I will stand by my king. As is my duty, Prince Regent Noctis. As His Majesty...gathers strength, so must you. It is your duty to claim the power of the royal arms.”

In the end, it’s not much of a decision to make. Gladio wholeheartedly endorses the idea of a stronger Noctis, as do Ignis and Prompto--especially after this past week. Ignis points out that the Marshal will undoubtedly take good care of Noctis’s father, which Noctis never doubted to begin with.

And so it is with one last reluctant squeeze that Noctis rises and leaves the small bedroom.

“Reggie’s tough,” Cid remarks from his spot outside the garage. “You just worry ‘bout yourself, boy.”

}{

Keycatrich isn’t far. A few daggerquills later, Noctis can already see the tomb ahead. A tall, heavily clothed figure with violet hair stands there, his back to them.

Prompto hesitates. “Hey, that--that isn’t--?”

“Unfortunately, I recognize him as well,” Ignis confirms.

Noctis speeds up. “Better see what he wants.”

The man turns around as soon as they’re within earshot. “My, what a pleasant surprise!”

“What’s your business here?” Gladio asks bluntly.

“Why, I’m simply admiring the view,” the man replies, affecting a greatly affronted air. “Can you fault a man for appreciating beauty?” As the last word leaves his lips, his gaze slides down Noctis’s body.

“U--uh.” Noctis stutters. He can almost _feel_ it, trailing beneath his shirt, an intense interest dipped in revulsion. He stumbles into Prompto, who is choking behind him.

“L-let’s just forget this guy,” Prompto urges quietly in the shuffle of cloth and feet after.

“Well, to each his own,” the man sighs, brushing past them. “Pity, though. I suppose I’ll have to come another day.” Something in his coat glints.

“A moment, please,” Ignis says abruptly.

The man pauses, glancing over his shoulder with an indulgent smile.

“Where did you get that key?” Ignis crosses the space between them in three long strides, blocking the man’s escape.

“Ah, this old thing? I merely chanced upon it in my travels.” the man shrugs.

“Cor was looking for this,” Gladio mutters to Noctis.

“Cor? Cor the ‘Immortal?’” The man chuckles, as if he’s just made a particularly amusing joke. “Now, if he’s involved...then the rumor must be true.” He turns from Ignis and sashays back up the steps.

“What rumor?” Noctis asks, trailing the man warily.

“Well, they say it opens the door to the Royal Tombs,” the man confides over his shoulder in a stage whisper. “The final resting grounds for the Lucian kings of old.”

“And what do you know about them?” Gladio challenges.

“I don’t _know_ anything, per se,” the man waves away. “But I’ve _heard_ that they’re scattered across Eos in a manner most inconvenient...well. What remains of them, at any rate.”

There’s a pause as he pulls the key from somewhere in his coat. “Now, the moment of truth.”

Noctis isn’t at all surprised when the lock clicks and the doors swing open. _Still on script._

 _“_ Ah,” the man exhales.

Dust, humming magic, and a twinge of bitterness. Noctis follows the man inside. In the center of the room lies the prone statue of a king and his sword. The weapon calls, quietly but persistently.

“The Wise King, if I’m not mistaken,” the man says. “Did you know he erected the Wall? It’s true. The ancient thing that met its demise just a couple of days ago. Such a tragedy.”

Noctis reaches towards the sword. It glows, rising high, brighter and brighter--and a hot white burning pierces his chest, the Sword of the Wise tearing open some channel of power he didn’t know he had. His pulse is pounding and something squeezes just a little in his chest, the same something that had been tightening this past week. The man’s eyes meet his gaze, and they flash bright for a fraction of a second--or did they? It must be a trick of the light.

“The power of kings,” the man remarks, rounding the statue. “Back in the day, the prince and his retinue would make a proper pilgrimage to these charming little relics, when they came of age. Ah, but you’re a little late, aren’t you? Perhaps _too_ late, if the news is true--let’s hope it isn’t, hmm?” He chuckles, walking towards the entrance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Noctis demands as he passes by.

The man spreads his hands in a pacifying manner. “I simply wish you well.” He executes a lazy turn, and something hurtles towards Noctis’s face--but this time, Noctis catches it. It’s the key.

“Long live the king.” The man cants his head, tipping his hat, and sweeps out of the door.

There are a few seconds of silence. Noctis slowly unclenches his fists.

Prompto groans. “What is _with_ that guy?”

Noctis pulls out his phone and dials. “Cor. Is my dad okay?”

“The same. It’s only been a few hours.”

“Good. Okay.” Noctis lets out a breath.

“Did something happen?”

“We found the tomb. And, uh. I got the sword.”

There’s a shuffle of papers, and something snaps shut on the other end. “You got in? How?”

“There was this man. He said he found the key. He...seemed to know a lot about the Royal Arms.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dunno.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall. Purple hair. Too many clothes. Lots of...gesturing…?”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“No.”

“It’s likely he’s gone to the next closest Royal Tomb. If he has the key, we need to find him and--”

“Oh no, he gave it to me. Us. The key,” Noctis winces. _Smooth. You’d do your speech tutor proud, Noct._

“Did he.”

“Yeah. Do you know him, Marshal?”

There’s a pause. “The next closest Royal Tomb is in Keycatrich Trench. He will know you’re headed there. Do not trust him.”

“...Got it.”

}{

In the end, they agree it’s best to seek the second royal arm in Keycatrich Trench.

“If he is there, it’s not unlikely he’ll attempt to lure us into a trap,” Ignis suggests. “We’d best take caution.”

The trench is dark and thick with old memories that no longer belong to anyone. The dungeon itself is full of daemons, tricks, and Prompto’s heart attacks--but no strange men, no mysterious smirks, no Nifs.

“Oh right. You hate bugs,” Noctis remembers as an arachne skitters up to them, flapping its flamboyant skirt. _Excuse me,_ he wants to say. _Did you borrow that from a certain man?_

He shudders, breaking free of his electrocution but his body is still buzzing, danger and death just one blow away, vision tinged with red. Faster, sharper, stronger--pulse roaring in his ears, he could do this all day, he’s unstoppable. Warp in, warp out, strike hard, watch, feint, _dodge_ \--but the arachne is fast, and she hits hard. A laugh escapes as he feels the wind knocked out of him, that was good, he’d almost made it to the end--

Ignis’s hand, firm against his back. An invigorating pulse through his body.

“Thanks, Ignis.” Noctis rolls his shoulders, grinning.

 _You know, I won’t always be around,_ Ignis doesn’t say. “An elixir might be prudent,” he suggests instead.

Oh. Right. Under Ignis’s watchful gaze, he guiltily crushes an elixir in his fist.

An odd chuckle, and Ignis has jumped back into the fray--or something. A moment later, a curse comes from the opposite end of the room. “No good throwing daggers in the dark.”

The feeling is gone, and Noctis just wants to get it over with. In a few more strikes, they finish off the arachne. From there, it’s just a few steps to the tomb and the Axe of the Conqueror smashes through Noctis’s chest--tightening, expanding, until it settles in with the Sword of the Wise. It isn’t long before they emerge in daylight and Noctis’s phone rings.

“So, you didn’t see him,” Cor concludes.

“No,” Noctis confirms. “Did you?”

“Not yet,” Cor admits. “The remaining Crownsguard and I have been watching the Nifs. They’re setting up a blockade that would cost us access to the west and to the remaining Royal Arms. It would be best to destroy it as soon as possible.”

“Right,” Noctis agrees. “Leave it to us.”

}{

It isn’t nearly as satisfying to slay Magitek soldiers. The steel and electricity hum around his blade, cold in life and cold in death. Barely an hour later, he and Gladio meet with Ignis, Prompto, and Monica beneath the open blockade.

Some guy named Loqi shows up in a Magitek armor. Noctis has never really heard of the guy, and he doesn’t feel much remorse for as they smash his MA-X Cuirass. It explodes in a great cloud of fire that throws Noctis on his back and leaves his ears ringing.

“Well done, Highness.” Monica directs a little bow at him before she takes her leave.

It’s a few days (and a Prompto-initiated chocobo detour) until they meet with Iris in Lestallum. She’s just as upbeat as Noctis remembers, until Jared takes Talcott away and the door shuts.

“You know, if there’s anything else, you can ask me,” Iris pours out in front of Noctis, and it’s almost reflexive for him to push it away before they’re all pointedly silent.

“What?”

“So, about Lady Lunafreya.”

Oh. Right. Somehow he’d been avoiding the subject, distracting himself with theories about the suspicious stranger, but now hearing Luna’s name sends a sharp spike of anxiety through his chest.

“I keep hearing she was in town. Apparently she left right away, but at least it means she’s okay.”

The spike eases, melting into a puddle of smaller barbs that Noctis tries to bury in the back of his head. “Good to hear. Thanks.” It’s not working.

“Yeah, well. Get a good night’s rest.” Iris rises and leaves them alone.

Noctis lets out a long breath. He probably won’t.

}{

They’re all gone the next morning.

“Seeing the sights, with Talcott and Iris,” Jared informs him.

It’s not particularly surprising that they didn’t wait. Jared offers to call and ask where they are, but Noctis declines the offer. He hasn’t had the chance to wander around on his own in a long time. Here, in the city, he can lose himself in the crowd and almost pretend he’s an ordinary citizen, with ordinary worries--the weather, the latest video games, what to cook for dinner….

A flash of purple hair. Noctis halt mid-step, and ducks behind a stall in the market.

“Yes, just those. Not too much, ah...that’s perfect, dear.” The man hands over a few coins, takes the bag, and looks directly at Noctis.

Shit.

“Our paths cross again,” he greets, sauntering up to Noctis.

Noctis is beginning to regret not joining the others. Then again, the man wouldn’t be bold enough to try something in the middle of the city, in broad daylight--would he?

“Oh, my. Have you lost your friends?” the man echoes his thoughts, and makes a show of looking about for them.

“No,” Noctis answers despite himself.

“The wayward prince, all alone? That simply won’t do. Fear not, _I_ shall accompany you.” The man turns to face the same direction as Noctis, that damnable smile on his face.

There’s not much Noctis can say. He flexes his hands, the reassuring hum of magic at his fingertips as they stroll through the marketplace.

“Have you broken your fast?”

“Yes,” Noctis answers immediately, just as his stomach emits a low growl.

The man chuckles. “A bit shy, are we?” he waves at a street vendor. “One of your finest pan cakes, if you please. Plenty of cream.” He winks at Noctis.

 _Pancakes?_ Those definitely aren’t….

The vendor blinks before getting to work. “One crepe, coming right up.”

“Now, I wouldn’t presume to know what brings you here,” the man says, “but I do recall a legend about the area. ‘Behind falling water, a sword sleeps--in frost, safe, the king it keeps.’”  
  
“Never heard that one.”  
  
“Haven’t you,” the man drawls. A flicker of amusement. “Then I suppose our meeting today is quite fortuitous. Don’t you agree?”  
  
_Not really._ “Uh huh.”

The vendor holds out the finished crepe in exchange for a coin.

“Keep the change,” the man encourages, offering Noctis the crepe with a flourish.

Reluctantly, Noctis accepts. It...does look good. And smell good. After a few steps, he takes a bite--and another. Gods, it’s amazing. He looks up to see the man grinning down at him. Noctis swallows.

“Better than you expected?” he asks.

Noctis mumbles a grudgingly affirmative noise into his crepe.

“Have you been in Lestallum long?” the man asks beside him.

“Shouldn’t you know?” Noctis challenges.

A laugh. “Such fire! I must admit it’s quite difficult to keep my eyes off you, and I’ve yet to see you in the city proper. In that case,” he continues, as if he hadn’t basically said he’s stalking Noctis, “perhaps a tour is order. Shall we?”

Pointedly ignoring the gloved hand extended to him, Noctis follows, clutching his crepe. The man does not appear to be deterred. Far from it, in fact. The man grins, carrying that same thread of amusement as before. He’s saying something about the power plant. Noct hasn’t seen any sign of the others yet.

“--shards of the meteor. Of course, it’s hardly a new idea. Even ancient Solheim had factories to...ah, may I?” The man’s fingertip flickers over Noctis’s chin.

Noctis startles, jerking away too late. There’s a dab of cream on the man’s finger. He brings it to his lips, sucking the cream off through a very punchable smirk.

“Mmm.” The man’s fingertip exits his lips with a pop. “Delicious.”

Noctis snaps his jaw shut. “I. Think. I should get back now,” he excuses.

“Oh? But we’ve just begun.” The man sighs. “No matter. Shall I escort you back to…?”

“I can find my way,” Noctis lies and flees, that thread of amusement trailing behind him.

}{

Some thirty-odd minutes later, Noctis finally enters the hotel.

“Noct, you’re back! Sorry we left you this morning. Gladdy said you might want to sleep in,” Iris quickly apologizes, bouncing up to him.

“That’s all right,” Noctis manages.

“Ooh, crepe!” Prompto greets. “Where’d you get that, Noct?”

“The--” _crazy fucker who’s following us_ “--uh, the market.” Why is he still holding this thing?

Ignis frowns. “Are you all right?”

“Uh, yeah! Great. The city’s...really something.” Noctis shifts his weight.

“Oh yeah, Talcott. Go on and tell Noct what you told me,” Prompto says.

“You got it!” the boy beams.

“Oh, come now, show some respect,” Jared scolds.

“Whoa, no need to respect me. I’m not royalty,” Prompto laughs.

Talcott straightens up. “So, there’s this legend about a sword. And the sword’s supposed to be behind a waterfall nearby.”

“It may well be one of the lost tombs,” Ignis points out.

 _Behind falling water, a sword sleeps._ Noctis nods.

“What was that?” Gladio asks.

Oops. “Ah. Just...thinking aloud. I must have heard the same legend,” Noctis recovers. “Thanks, Talcott.”

}{

“You saw him again?” Ignis says sharply once they’ve set out for the waterfall.

“Yeah. He told me about the tomb.”

A silence. Ignis sighs. “I apologize, Noct. We should not have left you.”

“It’s fine,” Noctis waves away.

“No, it’s not,” Ignis insists. He says more, but the waterfall is loud, tall, and Noctis leaps ahead to find a passage behind it.

“This place gives me goosebumps,” Prompto shudders. “Double back for our coats?”

“Ah, sorry. Guess I should have warned you,” Noctis says.

“Huh?”

“He, uh. Told me?” _In frost, safe, the king it keeps._ “Some kind of rhyme.”

“Of course he did,” Gladio mutters.

A few flans and a long fall later, they find a mindflayer. Noctis doesn’t manage to get anywhere close to danger--it seems the others, particularly Ignis, have made it their business to immediately counteract anything reckless Noctis does. When he’s knocked down, there’s immediately a hand to pick him back up. It’s with some irritation that Noctis jams the key into the tomb’s lock. The sword slams into his chest, pain explodes in his head, the floor is hard beneath his knees--

“A hole in the ground...something burning...The Meteor?”

“You saw the Disc of Cauthess?” Ignis asks, frowning.

}{

It happens again after they get back to Lestallum.

“We oughta take a closer look at this so-called ‘Disc,’” Gladio suggests.

“Then look no further than the outlook. We can use the viewer things!” Prompto suggests gleefully.

“No substitute for being on-site, but it would be a start. Let’s see what we can glean of Noct’s condition,” Ignis reasons.

Of course _he’s_ there.

“What a coincidence,” the man calls, raising his hand in greeting as they arrive.

Noctis can’t look at him. Not after he so blatantly ran away last time.

Gladio glares at him. “I’m not so sure it is.”

The man pays him no mind. “Aren’t nursery rhymes curious things?”

No? Not really? What kind of an answer does he expect?

“Like this one. ‘From the deep, the Archaean calls. Yet on deaf ears, the gods’ tongue falls. The King made to kneel, in pain, he crawls.’”

Fantastic. More rhymes. Technically, Noctis isn’t the king (yet). Maybe he is the King, though? He’d rather not argue this technicality.

“So how do we keep him on his feet?” Prompto asks urgently.

“You need only heed the call. Visit the Archaean and hear his plea,” he suggests. Then, “I can take you.”

“We in?” Gladio mutters.

“I dunno,” Noctis grumbles. Objectively, the man has been nothing but helpful so far, and they can’t exactly bust through the Niflheim blockade down there by themselves. In the absence of any other plans, the man’s offer seems like the best option. Of course, if it is a trap, they’ll...well, they’ll figure it out.

“We’ll watch our backs,” Gladio concludes.

“Fair enough,” Ignis agrees.

“Let’s do it,” Noctis decides. He sneaks a glance and catches the man’s expression, like he’s watching small children using big words _, how cute,_ before he smirks and begins striding off. Noctis quickly looks away, annoyed. His ears burn.

“I’m not one to stand on ceremony, but such an occasion calls for an introduction. Please, call me ‘Ardyn.’”

Finally, a name. Not one that means anything to Noctis, and from a quick glance, not one that means anything to Ignis or Gladio, or--Prompto’s not looking. He’s busy trying to keep up with the man--Ardyn. Isn’t that a woman’s name?

“Come with me to the car park--that’s where I left my automobile. She’s a dear old thing. Pales next to your Regalia, but she’s never let me down.”

The car probably has a name too. Something disgustingly literary. Noctis doesn’t want to know.

“So we take two vehicles--a convoy of sorts. Shall we?” Ardyn turns beside a red car that looks...surprisingly serviceable. Noctis had expected it to be about as patchworked together as Ardyn himself.

“Allow me to do the honor of assigning your driver. I choose…you.”

A glance--Ardyn’s eyes are very, very intense. Noctis grits his teeth, and cocks his chin up. Fine. Two can play at this game. He lost last time. He won’t lose now. “What if I ride with you?” He feels his face contort into what he hopes is a confident smirk.

Ardyn quirks his brows. “You might find the cab fare to be more than you bargained for.”

Noctis remembers to close his mouth. What? Did he...win? He feels a grin spreading on his face. “I can take it. What, don’t think you can handle me?” A flare of irritation.

An unreadable look passes over Ardyn’s face.

“Noct,” Ignis interrupts in his ear, clearly alarmed. “If you must, then I’ll go with you.”

“Hey, no fair. If you’re going, I’m going too,” Prompto chimes in.

Gladio opens his mouth, but Ardyn interrupts. “Before you ask, I will not be taking _all_ of you in my car, whether that is physically possible or not.”

“Not everyone, just me,” Noctis clarifies, albeit halfheartedly. Not like he can back out of the bluff now, with the fuss they’re making. The irritation grows.

Ardyn’s usual smirk slips back on. “Well, if you insist, please. Be my guest.” He opens the passenger side door and gestures towards Noctis.

Ignis glances doubtfully at Ardyn’s car. “Very well. We’ll be right behind you.”

Noctis sits down before he can think about it, and Ardyn shuts the door behind him. Ardyn’s car is much cleaner than he thought it would be. No clothes or paper cups, no cans of Ebony in the back and--really, no sign that anyone other than its driver ever sits in this car. Noctis looks up as the driver’s side door opens, and Ardyn sits down.

And leans. Very close, but facing away. Noctis jerks away a little bit before he realizes what he’s doing, sets his jaw, and sits still. Wayward purple hair tickles Noctis’s nose as Ardyn gathers his coat into the car and shuts the door. It smells like brine and sulfur. Even after he straightens up they’re still fairly close, elbows nearly touching.

Once they pull out of the lot, Ardyn motions to Ignis. “Just to be clear, this isn’t a race, it is a chase. You’re not to pass me. Lose sight of me, and you’ll lose your way. And no tailgating. An accident would spoil the trip.”

A bit of a control freak, then.

Ignis does not seem impressed. Noctis huffs. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t have to worry about Ignis. Let’s just hit the road already.”

Ardyn smiles. “As you wish.” He pulls in front of Ignis, and they’re off. The car offers a smoother ride than one would expect at first glance.

“So, how does it feel?” Ardyn asks, glancing at Noctis. “Riding with yours truly. Is the suicide seat to your liking?”

“It’s...not bad,” Noctis forces.

Ardyn chuckles, as if Noctis has told a particularly funny joke. Or he’s just laughing at Noctis. “She is a classic, unfortunately. There are only so many adjustments I could make, short of changing her nature entirely.”

Noctis sneaks a glance at Ardyn, whose eyes are seemingly on the road, and whose lips are slightly parted. With the wind blowing through his wild, unstyled hair, he looks...different.

“Enjoying the view?” Ardyn asks, without looking.

“Tch.” Sharply tearing his gaze away, Noctis scowls out of the window. The car slows, and Ardyn waits until the Regalia is fairly close before making the turn.

“All right back there?” Ardyn calls.

“Yep!” Prompto chirps. Ignis ignores Ardyn. Gladio scowls. Noctis can almost see the mental bird-flipping.

Ardyn doesn’t appear to be fazed. On the contrary, he seems downright jovial as he begins humming a tune. It’s a curiously dark tune, and Noctis stops himself from tapping his foot to it.

Noctis clenches his jaw as Ardyn’s coat brushes his arm. He resolutely does not retreat as the contact becomes firmer. Ardyn can do what he wants, and damned if he’ll get his--

“Six,” Noctis curses, flinching as Ardyn’s fingertips meet his own. Fine, he yields--this time, at least. “That’s _cold.”_ He frowns. “Are you sick?”

That chuckle again--private amusement, as Ardyn waves the question away. “You needn’t worry--though I appreciate your concern for my health.”

“I’m not,” Noctis says viciously, “ _concerned_. I just don’t want to catch whatever it is you have.”

Ardyn laughs. Loud, deep, unrestrained syllables that erupt from his diaphragm and shake his shoulders. It’s unsettling, and Noctis barely swallows around the tight, vicious bitterness in his chest. Ardyn swipes at his eyes. “Oh, Noctis. You most certainly will not--that, I can guarantee.”

Noctis finds himself on the receiving end of those intense amber eyes again, but this latest secret mockery feels surprisingly sincere. It’s only a second before Ardyn’s gaze is back on the road. Noctis is still turning their conversation around in his head when the car slows to a stop, and Ardyn shifts into park. The Regalia pulls up behind them.

“What say we call it a day here?” Ardyn suggests.

Gladio scowls, leaning forward in his seat. “ _What say_ we continue on to Cauthess?”

“The Archaean’s not going anywhere.” Ardyn affects an attitude of mild affront.

“Neither are we, under your stewardship.” Nevertheless, Ignis kills the engine.

Prompto nods. “So we make camp... _with Ardyn.”_ He jumps out of the Regalia.

Noctis grits his teeth. _Hell no,_ he wants to say, but that feels like conceding.

Gladio may be less enthused by the idea than Noctis is, though. “Might as well get the tent up,” he grumbles, slamming the car door.

“Oh, I’m afraid I’ve never really been one for the outdoors,” Ardyn dismisses the idea. “I shall foot the bill, so let us stay at the caravan over yonder.”

 _Quit paying for me,_ Noctis wants to say. At the same time, at least Ardyn is paying in some way for all his shit.

“Hey, Noct, you coming?” Prompto calls, lingering outside the shop. The others have already gone in, ostensibly analyzing the goods. Ignis’s gaze flickers to him from over a shelf. Belatedly, Noctis realizes Ardyn hasn’t even opened the car door.

“Run along, now. Your friends are waiting,” Ardyn encourages.

Noctis’s eyes narrow. “You’re not ditching us, are you?” _Leaving us in a trap?_

“Now, why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, why stop here? Plenty of daylight left.”

“There’s no rush.”

Silence. Irritation.

“Noct?” Prompto tries.

“I’ll catch up,” Noctis calls. “After you,” he says to Ardyn, gesturing at the door. Ardyn’s gaze is steel, a coiled cat deciding whether to pounce or--

Ardyn sighs dramatically. “As you wish.” With a very put-upon expression, he clicks the door open. Ardyn leans towards Noctis again, but this time Noctis (doesn’t let that hair distract him and) pulls forward, watching carefully. He’d better not try anything. “I must say, your doubts are utterly unfounded.” He pulls his coat out of the car around his left leg, steps his right onto solid ground, and takes his sweet time gathering his (eyesore of a) coat before straightening up with a flourish.

Something...doesn’t seem quite right?

“And now you,” Ardyn gestures. “Ah, or would you rather--”

“Is your leg okay?” Noctis says before his brain catches up.

Ardyn goes still for a fraction of a second. It’s so fast that Noctis may have simply imagined it. Ardyn chuckles. “I’m flattered, Noctis. If you’re that eager, I’d be happy to give you a better look at my... _leg._ ”

Noctis gags, averting his eyes. He’s opened the door and standing before he realizes, desperately trying to remove that horrific image from his mind. “No thanks,” he says firmly.

“Why, but you haven’t paid the cab fare.” Ardyn is rounding his car, swaying to a stop just behind Noctis.

Oh, _hell_ no. Noctis forces himself to turn around, but can’t bring himself to actually look at Ardyn. “How...much...is it?”

“Nothing you can’t afford,” Ardyn murmurs.

Noctis flinches slightly at icy fingertips beneath his chin, but doesn’t resist as they tilt his face up. He needs to see. He won’t. There is a cool breath and then rough, chapped lips on his--but they touch only briefly before the contact is gone. Noctis opens his eyes, and wishes he hadn’t. He jerks his head aside and Ardyn lets him, chuckling as Noctis walks (definitely walks, does not run) away.

}{

“Are you all right?” Ignis asks quietly.

“Fine.” Noctis wipes his mouth for what must be the tenth time that night, but he still can’t rid himself of the sensation. He still can’t look at Ardyn, either.

“What did he say to you?”

Noctis startles at the question. “What?”

Ignis crosses his arms. “I saw him lean down and whisper something to you.”

Right. _Whispering._ That’s what that was. “Nothing important.”

“Care to join us?” Ardyn calls, sitting across from Prompto. The blond turns around, beckoning to the two of them.

Ignis and Noctis exchange a look. Noctis sighs and starts walking over, Ignis following close behind. Noctis considers grabbing a chair from the other table when Ardyn rises.

“Please, sit,” Ardyn offers, giving his little lopsided bow.

 _Fine_. Noctis sits. Ardyn’s recently vacated chair is not warm, and Ardyn’s fingers linger on the back, trailing over Noctis’s shoulder before he begins idly pacing. Noctis tries to pay attention, but his mind doesn’t want to comply. Prompto is politely but awkwardly engaging Ardyn in conversation, whereas Gladio is openly suspicious and Ignis icily silent. Every few steps, Ardyn’s coat swishes as he turns back around, step, step, pivot, step step fall--

Noctis is out of his chair before he realizes what he’s doing, reaching forward to catch--

“--a fine specimen as yourself…” Ardyn pauses halfway bent over, reaching for a wide-eyed Prompto. He glances down at Noctis’s grip on that arm. For a moment, their gazes meet and Noctis swears he’s going to be murdered very slowly. “Yes, Noctis?”

“Uh.” Noctis unfreezes, and awkwardly (carefully) pulls Ardyn’s arm down and away from Prompto. “Don’t...don’t do that,” he suggests. Then, more forcefully, “Sit down.”

Noctis expects an objection, but Ardyn circles around him and takes Noctis’s seat without demur. “If you insist.” Ardyn sprawls in what’s probably supposed to be a dominating gesture. He looks like a porn star. Notably, his left leg ( _leg,_ ugh) is unbent.

“Thanks, dude,” Prompto whispers to Noctis. Gladio looks like he wants to forget what he just saw. Ignis is still staring daggers at Ardyn.

Did...none of them notice?

“No sweat,” Noctis replies, and grabs another chair. He ‘accidentally’ kicks Ardyn’s left leg on the way back.

}{

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research in Lestallum after I wrote most of this chapter, and found a pleasant surprise of some relevancy on one of the benches near the outlook. (Old Book: A worn, old tome once read by an ancient people. It has some value, and could fetch a decent price.) 
> 
> Enjoy!

The caravan has two bunk beds and one couch. It would have been a rather straightforward determination of who got the couch, had Prompto not managed to pass out on it.

“I am not sharing a bunk with that guy,” Noct mutters just outside the caravan.

“I daresay none of us wish to bunk with Ardyn,” Ignis points out quietly.

Gladio crosses his arms. “You two figure it out. I’m definitely taking the bottom.”

“Obviously. We don’t want a repeat of the midnight incident.” Noctis frowns. “Ardyn’s a big guy. He should probably be on the bottom.”

“It’s unclear how much of his bulk is flesh, and how much cloth,” Ignis says. “If you wish to sleep on the bottom as usual--”

“No, he…”  _ has a shit leg and probably shouldn’t be climbing anything?  _ Once Noctis had noticed the leg, it had been impossible to un-notice how stiff it was. Still, it feels wrong for him to actually say it.

“...nobody needs to sleep under  _ that,” _ Noctis finishes.

“Fair enough,” Ignis assents.

Noctis sighs, and holds out a fist on his open palm. “Loser bunks with Ardyn. Best two of three.”

Naturally, Noctis loses. Ignis disappears into the caravan and Gladio claps him on the shoulder, smirking. “Have fun.”

“Tch. Get outta here,” Noctis shoves Gladio, and turns to--

Huh. Where did Ardyn go?

After some searching, Noctis spots him inside the store, perusing the shelves of...oh.

Their eyes meet. Noctis feels his ears and then his entire face burning. 

“Something you wanted?” Ardyn asks, smirking.

“You--just letting--you know. You’ll be on the bottom.”

“Oh?” Ardyn raises an eyebrow. “If you’d like to take a ride, I could use your opinion on the various textures--”

“Bunking!”

The clarification is louder than Noctis meant for it to be. The shopkeeper stares at him. It should not be possible for his face to get any warmer, and yet.

“I mean,” Noctis says quietly, “I’m. Top bunk. You’re. Bottom bunk.”

“Ah,” Ardyn pauses and picks up a foil package. “I’m sure we could find a way to coexist comfortably on the lower level…?”

Noctis turns abruptly, striding towards the store entrance. No. This conversation is not happening.

“Sweet dreams, darling,” Ardyn calls after him.

}{

Noctis awakens in midair to the Archaean’s excruciatingly unintelligible nonsense in his head, followed by a sharp pain of flooring against his side and a slap of flesh and leather against his skull.

There’s the sound of shattering and an abrupt shift of cloth. Noctis belatedly realizes he’s fallen out of bed, but he can’t get up, his head is going to explode and his nerves are wrenching in his eye sockets and--

Someone is saying something, but it sounds like it’s coming from miles away.

“--away from him. Slowly.”

The meteor is burning. Booming syllables, fire, darkness, and blood? Whose blood? The Archaean’s voice comes in ever-louder tones, and his mind can no longer contain the images, nor his heart the sensations, ancient regret clashing with fresh vitriol--

It stops. Noctis gasps for air.

“Blood? Are you injured, Noct?” Ignis’s voice, at his side.

Noctis starts shaking his head and realizes there’s firm, cold leather trapped between his head and the floor. He stumbles to his feet, and Gladio helps him up. Ignis is still crouched and Ardyn is passably still, halfway out of his bed, withdrawing his open palm from the floor. Ignis’s blade is pressed against Ardyn’s neck.

“Headache,” Noctis manages.

Ignis’s dagger disappears. Ardyn watches him with a curious gleam in his eyes. He doesn’t look the least bit like someone who just woke up. (Seriously, he sleeps in all  _ that _ ?)

“How touching,” Ardyn remarks. “Such caring friends.”

Ignis ignores it. Noctis glares at Ardyn, though the effect is a bit dulled by fatigue and remnant pounding in his head. He turns to leave, squeezing past Gladio and Ignis in the tight space between the beds.

“Getting some water. Go back to sleep,” he mumbles.

}{

The next morning, Noctis is last to awaken, as usual, and spends some time staring at the ceiling before making up his mind. He finds Ardyn in the store again, this time leaning against the wall, hands on hips. Ardyn greets him with a smirk. Noctis turns around. 

Should he? Even when he wants nothing more than to punch that bastard in the face?

_ Probably _ , his conscience grumbles. Noctis grabs a small tube off the shelf and pays.

“I should warn you: we’re about to pass the point of no return.” Ardyn cocks his head. “I trust you’re not having any second thoughts?” 

Noctis scowls. “Of course not.”

“Then let us be off.” Ardyn pushes off the wall and sweeps past Noctis before he has a chance to open his mouth.

Outside the car, Ardyn directs an amused smile at Noctis, who’s stopped beside him. “Yes?”

Noctis huffs and thrusts the tube at Ardyn without looking. “For last night.”  _ No, idiot, he’s going to make some dirty joke again.  _ Hurriedly, he adds, “I probably would have. Gotten a concussion. If you hadn’t….” Noctis waves his hand vaguely.

Dirty joke not forthcoming, Noctis finally chances a look at Ardyn. He catches a moment of narrowed eyes before the customary smirk slides back into place. 

“Should I take this to mean you’ll be riding with me again?” Ardyn muses, plucking the tube of lip balm from Noctis’s hand.

“Your lips are nasty,” Noctis says vehemently, turning to walk towards the Regalia.

“I didn’t hear a ‘no,’” Ardyn calls.

Noctis doesn’t bother responding.

}{

“We’re here,” Ardyn announces as they arrive just outside the blockade.

“Better not be a setup,” Noctis says as Ignis eases the Regalia to a stop.

“Have I given you reason to doubt me?”

Prompto wrinkles his nose. “You don’t really inspire confidence.”

“Yeah. Not very straightforward,” Gladio agrees.

Ardyn turns to the soldiers above the blockade. “Hello! It’s me! Be so kind as to open up!”

The door opens.

Prompto’s eyes widen. “Wow. That worked?”

“I may not look like much,” Ardyn says modestly (yeah, right), “but I do have some influence. Aren’t you glad we came together? Your audience with divinity lies ahead.”

“You’re leaving?” Prompto sounds alarmed.

“Aww, will you be lonely without me?” Ardyn waves at them. “Go on now, I won’t be long.”

Before Ardyn finishes talking, Ignis maneuvers the Regalia through the doorway, his lips drawn tight. They leave the car at the end of the road and hop out.

The landscape is fairly different on this side. The dusty buttes and skeletal trees (“Petrified,” Ignis remarks) set the mood. Prompto snaps a few photos before he stops, pointing.

“Hey, isn’t that…?” Prompto asks.

A royal tomb torn to nearly nothing, looking exposed and rather disrespected. 

“This is the third one he’s led us to,” Noctis mutters, staring at the oddly displaced statue. 

“Not as if we required his help finding this one. And we hardly need his key when there’s no trace of a door left,” Ignis grouses.

The Blade of the Mystic calls and Noctis answers, bracing himself as it pierces his chest in a sharp pain and the ground begins to shake.

“Get away! Quickly!” Ignis shouts. 

The ground beneath Noctis’s feet breaks off and Gladio lunges for him, but it’s too late and Noctis is falling in a cloud of rubble, arms flailing, trying to grasp something, anyth--

}{

Noctis sits up with a start, his body is shattered, he felt his spine crush into--

“Noct! Answer me!” Gladio shouts.

No, that’s not right. Noctis tests his limbs--perfectly functional. He rubs at the tightness in his chest, grimacing.

“I’m all right,” he responds, rising to his feet.  _ Not-dead again. _ The statue of the Mystic lies in shards, scattered across the ground. ( _ Really  _ disrespected, now.) “Doesn’t look like I can get back up from here, though.” 

“Can’t you just warp back?” Prompto asks.

“Too far. I’ll try to find a way up.”

“And we’ll try to find a way down,” Ignis replies.

Noctis finds a path, dotted with patches of burning ground. He’s halfway up it when a headache strikes. Noctis grits his teeth, narrowly avoiding the flames. “What--do you want?” he demands. 

Flashing images. White robed Oracle, rousing Titan from his slumber. “Luna was here?” The headache dulls to a throb.  _ Correct,  _ it probably means.

The path shrinks and suddenly he’s at the bottom of a narrow crevasse between looming, weathered walls of stone. There’s a strange tinge in the still air.

He sees the Archaean, rising before him. He sees himself, entreating the Astral.

The words echo in Noctis’s mind as Titan slowly lifts a hand. Oh, shit. Run, run--

The ground crumbles just behind Noctis, and he stumbles, just barely making it out of the crevasse, but he doesn’t fall. Behind him, one of the walls of the crevasse is gone. Not the shaken-and-crumbled kind of gone, but the was-never-there-at-all kind of gone. It hadn’t been a crevasse at all, but a narrow ledge with a steep drop on one side. Not something a sane person would run across. Yet if he had been just a little slower….

A vision, huh.

“Having fun?” Ardyn calls. Noctis squints upwards and spots a promising warp point right next to Ardyn.

A flash and Noctis is there. “What took you so long?”

Before Ardyn can answer, Titan  _ roars.  _ There is a foot coming down very slowly but surely on top of them. A shattering sound, and Noctis--impossibly--blocks it with his Engine Blade. And then--even less possibly--he parries it.

“Let’s  _ go!”  _ Noctis yells, running and stumbling and scrabbling up the path. He sees Ardyn turn to follow him, something oddly stiff about his movements--is he injured?--but there’s no time to ask, not while Titan is flying into a slow-motion stomping rage.

Noctis reaches the end of the path. Ardyn overtakes Noctis and his uneven steps stutter to a halt. Noctis frowns. “Can you fi…” Ginger movements. Even Ardyn’s arms are stiff. Definitely injured. Noctis tosses Ardyn a potion which he barely catches. 

“Get out of here,” Noctis orders. 

“A marvelous suggestion,” Ardyn bites out, and when Noctis looks again, he’s gone.

The ground crumbles again, but this time Noctis sees a warp point and gets to higher ground. He chances a look back. 

Titan, thankfully, has stopped, and seems to be regarding the earth beneath him very carefully. Noctis squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, recalling the words he just saw himself speak.

“Titan, the Archaean,” he calls, putting as much authority as he can in his voice. “your aid will I command.” He breaks off as he feels the telltale hum of magic pulsing through his words. It’s slow but strong, awakening from ancient sleep. Noctis gathers himself, continuing. “Shall I pass this Revelation, your power be mine to hand!”

A low rumble--maybe a laugh?--and Titan’s voice reverberates in Noctis’s head, staggering him with what must be the Astral’s consent. Titan raises a fist. 

Right. Revelation time. Noctis summons his blade. 

“Noct!” 

Prompto jumps down, landing next to him. A rush of relief. Further above, Gladio and Ignis are arriving as well.

“No worries, man. I gotcha covered,” Prompto slaps Noctis on the back, taking aim.

Noctis grins, and launches towards Titan.

The battle is intense. Titan comes at them, fist swinging and smashing. Noctis quickly finds himself riding the rush, gleefully landing blows against Titan’s impossibly huge arm. 

Ignis shouts out a strategy. Noctis barely spares the time to prepare the Blizzards before Titan knocks him aside. Noctis’s vision goes red and he spits blood as he feels the Titan’s fist crush his spine. He doesn’t use a phoenix down before he comes to, chest tight. He squares his shoulders, the ice spells come and he lets loose a yell, smashing the Archaean’s left arm to pieces. 

Something like approval and rage echo in his head as Titan sinks back down, fire and hot lava spewing forth. Something condenses in his hand. Unsurprisingly, the ground is collapsing yet again. Noctis’s pulse races even faster, the thrill of the fight still running through his body. 

A dropship lowers before them.

Ignis is as exasperated as Noctis has ever seen him. “The Empire? Now?”

The hatch opens, and a familiar figure comes into view. “Fancy meeting you here! It occurs to me I never formally introduced myself.”  _ Yeah, right. _ “Izunia. Ardyn Izunia.”

“Imperial Chancellor Izunia?” Ignis shouts incredulously.

_ Don’t trust him,  _ Cor said. He’d known about this. Noctis had been expecting a trick, a betrayal--of course he had--but it still stings. He grits his teeth.  _ Stupid Noct.  _

Ard--Chancellor Izunia gives his little lopsided bow--or not, it’s difficult to tell through the haze of heat. “At your service. And more importantly, to your aid. I guarantee your safe passage. Though you’re always welcome to take your chances down there. Buried among the rubble, is it?”

Ignis turns to Noctis, urgency warring with obvious loathing. “Dying here is not an option. We have no choice, Noct.”

Noctis scowls. “I know.”

As he climbs into the dropship, he resists the urge to punch the chancellor in his smug face. The hatch closes behind them.

“Escort these gentlemen to the main deck,” Chancellor Izunia orders the MTs, who immediately begin to comply. “Make sure they’re comfortable,” he calls after them.

}{

Ignis and Prompto manage to keep Noctis from incurring property damage and MT destruction. Gladio just barely manages to control himself.

They don’t talk. Their red-eyed, immobile guards watch. The engine hums.

Noctis stands abruptly. “Bathroom,” he announces. The MTs do not follow him.

Closed rooms, locked weapons racks, footsteps through metal corridors. A whispered curse.

Noctis stops at the noise. His vision narrows to a point. He throws open the door at the end of the hallway. Something metal breaks. The chancellor slowly turns around, and Noctis’s fist aims for the man’s jaw. He dodges to the side, stepping back.

“ _ You,”  _ Noctis growls, pressing forward.

“Feisty, are we?” the chancellor asks casually, expression rigid and holding himself oddly still. Noctis’s fists draw tighter.

“ _ Imperial  _ Chancellor. How did it feel, delivering the terms of  _ peace _ ? Did you enjoy watching Insomnia burn, the people dying?”

The chancellor stumbles--tries to disguise it with another oddly stiff gesture--Noctis grabs the man’s half-open outer vest (he’s not wearing his coat) and slams him into the wall. The chancellor jerks as his back makes impact, lips drawing into a grimace.

“Might I remind you, dear Noctis--”

“Don’t! You don’t get to call me by name.”

“...Highness. I do not control the army. What happened in the Crown City was--”

“ _ Bullshit!”  _ Noctis presses the chancellor further into the wall, and the man inhales sharply. This close, he can see the chancellor’s skin gleaming, unusually pale--can feel his shallow, quick breaths. His lips are glossy. (Would that Noctis could reclaim that ill-advised present.) The man’s brow is tightly furrowed, eyes unfocused. He looks...unexpectedly terrible? Is he...?

No. More likely some act, who knows to what end? 

Noctis throws him in disgust. The chancellor barely keeps his footing.

“After we get off this airship,” Noctis spits, “I never want to see your face again.”

He turns around to storm off.

Something heavy drops behind him. He looks. It’s Chancellor Izunia.

Warily, Noctis approaches again. This is starting to look less and less like an act. “Chancellor?”

“You’re dismissed,  _ Highness.”  _ The words are quieter than usual, but their venom and disgust stab through Noctis. Frustration.

Noctis doesn’t reply. He hurls a potion at the chancellor’s chest (where it smashes upon impact), whirls around, and leaves.

}{

Noctis does, eventually, find the bathroom. By the time he gets back, the sun has dipped below the horizon, and Prompto is quietly and nervously chatting with Gladio. Finally resting, Noctis’s hands ache from being clenched into fists. He plays with the coin in his hand--the Mark of the Archaean. 

“Who controls the Niflheim army?” Noctis asks.

They all look at him. 

“The High Commander,” Ignis replies smoothly. Then, after a beat, “General Glauca, but it’s reported that he fell in the attack on Insomnia.”

Right. Drautos. Cor had told them about that.

“Who knows,” Prompto says. “I mean, they reported your death too. And King R--”

“ _ Prompto _ ,” Ignis cuts him off sharply.

“Gah! Um, I mean, just, here you are, Noct! Alive and well.” Prompto laughs nervously, eyeing the MTs still on deck.

“I hope the bastard is still alive.” Gladio cracks his knuckles. “So I can kill him myself.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Ignis says. “I believe the Marshal has already expressed a similar sentiment.”

So, General Glauca. Not Chancellor Izunia. That much hadn’t been a lie. But of course the chancellor must have known the plan. And that makes him culpable. The attack on the city was obviously an attempt on King Regis’s life--and maybe his own and Luna’s, if they were reporting as much. But...they weren’t dead. And now the chancellor is, to all appearances, helping them. Why? Maybe...maybe he…?

Noctis does not need another headache, so he decides to stretch his legs. They take him some way before he realizes he’s back before that room at the end of the hallway. The door is shut, as he’d slammed it.

Hesitantly, he knocks. “Chancellor Izun…” the door creaks open. Right. He broke it. 

It’s dark inside now. He’d been too...distracted to notice last time, but there’s furniture in the room. A dresser, an armchair, a four-poster...he’d broken into the chancellor’s bedroom? Six. That would explain his clothes. And the half-open vest…. Noctis feels his ears grow warm.

No one leans against the wall before him. Noctis sighs, and bends down to inspect the door. It appears he’d broken the lock clean off, and the tongue that holds the door shut is bent at an angle. He grabs the end of the tongue, pushing the door into the wall with his foot, and pulls--

“Good evening.”

Noctis jerks away from the door, glancing around...there. Something shifts on the bed. “Shit. I didn’t mean--I was--your door is broken,” Noctis finishes lamely. 

“Is it.”

Noctis winces. “M’sorry,” he mumbles.

“Come again?”

Noctis’s ears are burning. “I didn’t realize you were...that I invaded. Your privacy.”

There’s a long pause. “You do realize you are still standing inside my room? Uninvited?” As if explaining to a small child. 

Noctis takes a deep breath, suppressing a sharp twinge of irritation. “I also wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“What a noble desire. Do you know what  _ I  _ want, Noctis?”

Noctis bites back his initial sharp retort. Well, Ardyn certainly  _ sounds  _ okay. “Right. I’ll leave.”

“An excellent idea.”

}{

On the deck, small white lights have turned on all around the interior in place of the frosted glass skylights. It’s been dark for an hour by now.

“So, how long ‘til we get there?” Prompto asks.

“Depends where ‘there’ is,” Ignis returns, crossing his arms. “I doubt that hatch will open in a favorable location.”

“Time to  _ hatch  _ an escape plan?” Gladio asks.

“That won’t be necessary.” Ardyn saunters into the room. “We’ll be reaching our destination in a few moments.”

Noctis whips his head around, getting to his feet along with everyone else. The man is fully dressed, complexion normal, and...well, looking like his usual self. 

The ship is in fact descending. This doesn’t prevent Ignis from an icy, “And where does the Imperial Chancellor intend to take us?”

Ardyn spreads his arms wide as the hatch opens. “Where else?”

}{

Lestallum is hardly quiet at night. The conversation and occasional laughs around Noctis are a welcome change from the cold red stare of MTs.

“I guess it makes sense,” Prompto comments, looking around the city. “I mean, we left for Titan, and now we’re back.”

“Conspicuously short one Imperial Chancellor and one Regalia,” Ignis comments.

“We parked all the way at the Disc...oh! We could ask Cindy to tow it for us.” Prompto’s already pulling out his phone. 

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s still there,” Gladio says. 

While Prompto emotes over the phone, Noctis strolls past the benches near the outlook and Ignis picks something up. 

“What’s that?” Gladio asks.

Ignis flips open the old book. “It appears to be a collection of research articles regarding the Crystal.” Ignis begins to read aloud. Noctis barely has time to wave goodbye to it before Gladio’s plummeting interest is gone.

“Spare me the details,” Gladio interrupts.

By the time they make it to the hotel, Prompto has finished his phone call. “I’m sure she’ll find it. This is Cindy we’re talking about,” he says.

}{

Several days later, they still haven’t learned the location of the Regalia. They have (or rather, Ignis has) learned a great deal about the Crystal.

“This group proposes that the Crystal possesses no Light of its own,” Ignis says one night. 

Noctis doesn’t look up from his phone. “Wonder what they were smoking,” he says, starting to attack Prompto’s fort in King’s Knight.

“Don’t dismiss it yet. They claim that, rather than a source of Light, the Crystal only collects and redirects it via other channels. Collecting from the Kings of Lucis and redirected through the Ring of the Lucii, for example.”

“But wasn’t the Crystal still a thing even before Lucis?” Prompto asks, furiously tapping at his screen.

“No record exists of the Crystal before it was gifted to the Founder King,” Ignis gracefully corrects. “The measurements this group took, accounting for the Wall, the King, everything else--didn’t seem to balance, however.”

“What didn’t balance?” Noctis doesn’t particularly want to be thinking about this right now. 

“Power in and power out,” Ignis replies patiently.

“So what? The Crystal’s running a deficit?” Noctis says idly.

“A surfeit,” Ignis corrects. “Disregarding any initial power with which the Crystal might have been imbued before this research, the paper lists the various lengths of time it would take before the surfeit was enough to perform various tasks--light the Crown City for a night, run a Magitek ship across the continent, and so on.”

Prompto groans as Gladio joins Noctis, and the fort’s first line of defense falls.

Gladio grins. “Go on.”

“Just for a superlative, the group also made an educated guess of how much power would be required to fuel another Astral War. They predicted it would take approximately 1500 years.”

Ignis puts down the book. “Any guesses how long ago this article was published?”

“Fifteen hundred years ago,” Gladio supplies.

“No way,” Prompto slumps, his fort demolished.

“Precisely,” Ignis answers.

Noctis grins and high fives Gladio. 

“They just got lucky,” Prompto pouts.

“Unlikely,” Ignis says. “There are several other articles in this collection which required the same measurements but made them independently. One of them is even a direct attempt to replicate the results of this initial finding. The numbers match.”

“So what’s your point? The Astrals are going to war again because some dead guys say so?” Noctis puts down his phone.

“They are waking up just now,” Gladio points out.

Ignis hesitates, adjusting his glasses. “...Not exactly what I meant. Well. Just something to keep in mind, I suppose.”

Noctis’s phone rings. This late? “Cor?”

“His Majesty is awake.”

}{

Ignis is damnably stubborn about driving at night, but it isn’t as if they actually have a car to drive--so for once, he has nothing to say. They hop on chocobos, and ride straight to Hammerhead. 

“Dad?” Noctis bursts through the door, still out of breath. 

On the narrow bed, Noctis’s dad is sitting up, supported by pillows. He’s wearing pyjamas that belong to Cid, if Noctis had to guess, and looks distinctly disheveled and unkingly. Noctis couldn’t give a rat’s ass about that.

“Noct,” Regis greets, eyes crinkling into a smile. Cor steps aside to make room for the prince, who doesn’t seem to know what to do now that he’s so close. Regis opens his arms, and Noctis crouches down onto the bed, giving his father an awkward but heartfelt hug. 

“I came as soon as I could,” Noctis says. 

Regis reaches up (hand shaking) and plucks a yellow feather out of Noctis’s hair. “I have no doubt.” 

Noctis laughs a little. “Ah. Just...it’s good to see you.”

King Regis addresses Noctis’s friends, who’ve filed in behind him and who are now (awkwardly, in Prompto’s case) standing a respectful distance behind. 

“I thank you for watching over my son. He is fortunate to find himself in your care.” 

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” A low drawl.

Noctis straightens, gaze snapping to the doorway. Ignis’s daggers have appeared, as has Cor’s katana. 

“Dear me. Was it something I said?” Ardyn asks, glancing around the room. 

“Dare you threaten his Majesty,” Cor growls.

“Now, now, I thought we had an understanding last time.” Ardyn opens his arms lazily, indicating the room as a whole. “And yet, such hostility.”

“Last time?” Noctis asks. 

Cor’s jaw clenches. He lowers his weapon, but does not send it away.

“Why, you haven’t told Prince Noctis, Marshal?” Ardyn adopts a terribly affronted air. “Surely His Majesty knows….” Ardyn gasps. “No?”

There’s a long silence during which attention shifts to Cor. 

Ardyn runs a hand through his hair, flipping it at the end. “If you won’t tell them, then I will. When your Crown City was falling, the Marshal and I were having a bit of fun.” Ardyn winks, slowly walking around the room. “You know. A bit of a chase, brandishing his sword--and who did we see but General Glauca, standing over the King, with his own  _ sword  _ out--”

“Chancellor Izunia called Drautos off,” Cor concludes. Just in time. Prompto’s eyes probably would have popped out of their sockets, had that narrative been allowed to continue.

Ardyn lets out a long-suffering sigh, stopping at the head of the bed. “Yes, just in time. I feared I might have been too late, but...it appears you’re alive and well, Your Majesty.” Ardyn gives his lopsided bow, tipping his hat.

King Regis doesn’t appear to be moved. 

“What do you want, Ardyn?” Noctis finally says.

“So kind of you to ask! Perhaps I simply wished to see you,” Ardyn suggests, sliding up to Noctis. They’re almost touching. Noctis sees Gladio start, but Noctis holds up his palm and Gladio stops.

Noctis glares directly upwards. Sulfur and brine. “And now that you have....”

“A gift.” With a flourish, Ardyn presents something blue in the scant inches between them.

A sylleblossom.

Noctis snatches the flower from Ardyn’s (cold) fingers, pulse beginning to race. His other hand balls into a fist. “Luna. What have you done with--”

“Now, now, Noctis. There grow more flowers on Eos than our dear Oracle could handle alone. Surely she wouldn’t miss...just the one?”

Noctis grits his teeth.

“Until we meet again,” Ardyn murmurs. A few steps later, he’s gone. 

The tension in the air hangs behind him.

“So, what happened at the Capital…” Gladio begins slowly.

“It’s true. The Imperial Chancellor saved His Majesty’s life,” Cor admits.

“To what end?” Ignis muses.

“Who can say?” Cor scowls at the empty doorway.

“Destroying my kingdom and sparing my life,” Regis says slowly. It’s the first thing he’s said since Ardyn showed. His gaze turns to Noctis. “You display such familiarity with him.” The corners of his lips drag downwards.

Noctis shifts uncomfortably. “We’ve had our fair share of run-ins. He’s been...helping us.” The sylleblossom stem is getting crushed in his fist. Noctis forcibly unclenches it. Luna. He needs to get to Luna, with or without their car.

“Do what you must, but be wary, Highness,” Cor warns.

“I know.”

Regis dismisses them and they leave the room, emerging in the floodlights outside.

“Wow,” Prompto comments. “I didn’t expect that guy to show.”

“And yet, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Ignis sighs.

Noctis has had his fair share of stalkers. He can’t remember any as persistent or entirely unreadable as this one.

“Aww, shoot!” Prompto snaps his fingers. “I forgot to ask him about our car.”

Gladio snorts. “Probably for the best. I’d bet solid gil that bastard is the one who hid it.”

“Your Highness.” Cor exits the building, and they turn to him. “Cid and I will be departing with the King.”

“You’re leaving? When?” Noctis asks.

“As soon as possible.” Cor hesitates. “In truth, this is not the first that His Majesty has awakened--merely the first he’s been well enough to remain so. We know not when again such an opportunity will arise.”

“So you’re leaving  _ now?”  _

“We’ve already lingered here far too long. Our unwelcome Imperial visitor may herald more,” Cor says.

Gladio grunts. “No arguing with that.”

“His Majesty is fit for travel, but only just,” Cor continues. “As I said, the battle took a great deal out of him. There’s a hospital to the west that is rumored to cure all manner of ills.”

“Rumored, is it?” Noctis crosses his arms.

“I’ve heard accounts the Oracle has recently appeared there herself,” Cor says.

“We’ll go with you.” Noctis straightens up.

Cor shakes his head. “The larger the party, the more attention it attracts. We’ll go our separate ways.”

There’s a pause.

“In that case, Marshal, please keep us updated,” Ignis says. “And let us know if you encounter Lady Lunafreya on your travels.”

“Will do.” 

}{

Daylight is just breaking when Cor and Noctis help Regis into the car--an unassuming gray sedan that Cindy assures them is far more reliable than the bright green clunkers they constantly find broken down by the side of the road. Cindy shuts the hood, dusting her hands off as Regis eases into the back seat. In full black with his crown, brace, and scepter, Regis is looking more like his normal self again. But his drooping mouth and the sagging, dark skin under his eyes send a twisting thorn through Noctis’s gut.

“Will you be all right?” Noctis asks.

“There is no cause for concern,” Regis forces a tired smile. “Not with these two by my side.”

“Leave the worrying to us, Highness.” Cor says.

Noctis frowns. “If you’re ever in trouble, call me. Don’t try to take on the Empire by yourself.”

At this, Regis manages a chuckle. “And the same to you, my son. If that Chancellor shows himself again, you’d best be wary. Don’t...try to take him on by yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Can Ardyn even fight? He’d shown up in the Disc of Cauthess, but not to battle.

“We’ll take care of Noct, your Majesty,” Gladio says from behind.

King Regis eases into the seat and closes his eyes. “I ask nothing more.”

Cor gently shuts the door. With a last exchange of farewells, Cid starts the engine and they’re off. Noctis finds himself staring at the horizon long after the dust behind their car has disappeared.

A hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring. Ignis. “Let’s get some rest,” he suggests.

Noctis opens his mouth,  _ but Luna, but my dad,  _ but then Prompto yawns. Noctis sighs. “Sounds good to me.”

}{

It’s early afternoon when Noctis wakes up to a pawing at his chest. 

Umbra leads him past the garage, past the cars parked beside it, to Gentiana. Ramuh is their next goal, and he’s currently flooding Duscae--Luna is already there, seeking a covenant with the Fulgurian.

Luna. Noctis’s fingers clench around the stem of the sylleblossom that he hasn’t thrown away yet, despite its origin. He looks down at the blue petals. It’s still fragrant with both its own perfume and the tang of sea and sulfur. Gentiana pauses.

“Your flower-sender will be watching,” Gentiana says quietly.

Noctis looks up sharply. “Ard--?” Gentiana is gone.

}{

Umbra comes again a day later, carrying Luna’s notebook.  _ My prayers are with you, Noctis.  _

Noctis smiles.  _ Thanks, Luna. Wish you were with me too.  _ He twiddles his pen, eyeing the thunderheads on the horizon.  _ Stay safe.  _ Noctis sends Umbra off.

“We have to go into that thing on...on chocobos?” Prompto asks.

“You love chocobos,” Noctis counters.

“Yeah, but...it’s a thunderstorm. Sent by Ramuh. That’s going to be covering all of Duscae.” Prompto motions widely with his arms.

“And?” Gladio asks.

“We’re gonna be drenched! Can’t we--I dunno, rent a car?”

“No,” Ignis says.

“No,” Gladio says.

“No,” Noctis says.

Prompto slumps. “Fine.”

The storm is wet, loud, and oppressive. They’re halfway to the ever-present lightning strike and squishing what must be the twentieth gigantoad that day through a dropship full of Imperial Troopers when Noctis decides that’s enough.

“Wanna make camp?” Gladio asks.

“Let’s at least find a caravan,” Noctis suggests. His chocobo squawks in what must be agreement. They backtrack a little to the Coernix Station. Noctis wrings out his jacket under the caravan canopy. It’s stuffy inside the caravan, and it (everyone) smells like wet chocobo. 

Prompto pulls what looks like a piece of tongue out of his hair. He wrinkles his nose. “What  _ is  _ that?” 

“The Fulgurian’s trial,” Ignis says.

}{

It is still dark when Noctis awakens. The roar of rain drumming on the metal caravan roof nearly drowns out the voices outside. 

Nearly.

Noctis slips out of bed, avoids Gladio’s sprawling arm jutting out from the opposite bunk, passes Ignis on the couch, and stops just short of the door.

There’s a low voice, the intonation rising into a question.

“To question is not our place. To guide the King is not your place.” Gentiana. A pause. “King of the Stone,” she addresses.

Noctis emerges from the doorway. Gentiana stands alone outside. Strange. Wasn’t she speaking to someone?

“We wish to see the Mark of the Archaean, that proof which you bear of the Landforger’s favor.”

“What about it?” Noctis summons the small coin into his hand and holds it out for Gentiana’s inspection.

Gentiana’s eyes open. She takes it from his hand, inspecting the front and back very carefully before returning it. “So it is true.”

“What is?” Noctis asks. 

Gentiana looks directly at Noctis. He can’t hold her gaze. “Recall the words you spoke before the Landforger.”

“What about them?” 

“To speak them is to choose. To the Stormsender’s light must go the King. Before he accepts the Light, The Chosen King must choose.”

“Noct?” Ignis, behind him. He frowns at Noctis. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I was just….” Gentiana is gone. “Yeah. Just going back to sleep.”

That night, Noctis dreams. He dreams of Luna, of his father, of himself. He dreams of the Crystal, of shackles, and of fate.

He dreams of a choice.

}{


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramuh does not go easy on his Chosen.

The grounded dropships serve not only as sources of hindrance but also of information. General Glauca (still alive, to little surprise) has ordered capture of the prince by whatever means necessary, though the Imperial forces they meet aren’t nearly creative enough.

“Not like they can really stop us,” Noctis boasts, grinning after taking out their third consecutive wave of MTs. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to exercise a little caution,” Ignis suggests. They pass a haven on the hillside. Lightning strikes just a few yards up a path before them.

“It’s fine,” Noctis dismisses. “They didn’t stand a cha--”

Gladio’s arm is suddenly against Noctis’s chest, and he nearly stumbles. Gladio’s other hand is raised to his chin, finger on his lips.

“Hear that?” Gladio asks quietly.

“No, what?” Noctis frowns. The rain?

“Exactly,” Gladio says.

He’s right. No frogs, no buzzing Magitek, no squawking chocobos--no sounds other than the rain and the occasional thunder.

_ A warning.  _ Noctis nods. Slowly, they continue up the path, hemmed in by taller and taller walls of stone until they reach an exceptionally quiet clearing. They can’t even hear the rain anymore over the--lack of sound? What is it?

Like a ghost, he watches himself standing before the petrified tree at the far end of this walled off clearing. A vision? The Noctis standing before him entreats Ramuh, and then touches the tree before a blast of bright Light sucks the image out of existence.

_ The first Runestone stands before you,  _ Gentiana confirms.

Noctis’s fingers clench at his sides. He must endure this trial, before he eventually accepts Ramuh’s blessing. As he must for all the Astrals, before he ascends as King (but his dad, what about his dad?) and purges Eos of its scourge. 

But before all he must do, there is something he can choose to do.

Noctis straightens up, addressing the glowing runestone. “Ramuh, the Fulgurian, your aid will I command; shall I pass this Revelation, your power be mine to hand!”

The lack of sound grows louder, deafening Noctis to everything as it expels from the runestone like a physical push. It pulses in his ears interspersed with roaring radio static and he’s being forced back from the tree. His mouth is open and his throat is straining but all he hears is nothing. The grass is sliding beneath his boots even as he takes a step forward and is pushed that same step back. Around him, something is happening, his friends are moving--

Suddenly, the world snaps back in stereo commotion around Noctis, and he all but falls into the tree. A vibrant purple current sears through his palm upon contact and sparks through the air. A flitting image of electric outrage, and he finally stops screaming. 

Gladio’s huge arms catch him before he falls to the ground. “--ou hear me?”

Noctis can’t quite catch his breath. They’re all talking at once.

“Obviously not, otherwise he would have--”

“--what did you do?”

The last is a shout. Prompto is shouting at someone? Noctis lifts his head and sees the cause.

Of course.

“Merely what you asked,” Ardyn says. His arms are open in marked indifference. In one hand, he holds what looks like a blunt, retractable black pen.

Prompto makes a motion like drawing his gun, but nothing happens.

“I did warn you of the side effects,” Ardyn shrugs.

“Yet you didn’t state what they were,” Ignis retaliates.

“Hardly  _ my _ fault. I could barely get a word in before dear Prompto here accepted my aid.”

“I….” Prompto’s hands are shaking.

“Perhaps you  _ jumped the gun?” _ Ardyn drawls.

Noctis pushes at Gladio, who’s directly between Noctis and the rest of the clearing.

“What’s going on?” Noctis rasps.

“Noct!” Prompto spins to face him. “There was this light, and it started--I dunno,  _ eating _ you, and you wouldn’t stop screaming, and then Ardyn said he could make it go away--”

“Slow down,” Noctis interrupts.

“It appears that Chancellor Izunia used a device which interferes with both yours and the Astral’s powers,” Ignis summarizes before Prompto can start again.

“A neat little trick,” Ardyn comments, pocketing the black pen.

Noctis opens his palm and calls forth his Engine Blade. Nothing. The Sword of the Wise. Nothing.

“It was definitely a trick.” Gladio glares at Ardyn.

But it worked. Noctis did manage to touch the runestone.

“Now that you have us at your mercy, what do you intend, Chancellor?” Ignis crosses his arms.

“Allow me to join you,” Ardyn proposes. “After all, leaving you defenseless and alone would be dreadfully irresponsible.”

They crowd in closer. “What do you say?” Gladio mutters.

“Well, we are kinda screwed, ” Prompto says. “Maybe we should let him come with us.”

“Perhaps we can nick his ‘trick,’” Ignis suggests.

“Good point,” Gladio says.

“Not like he’ll stop following us if we say no,” Noctis grouses.

“Better to keep an eye on him, then,” Ignis concludes. 

Noctis glances up at Ardyn, who’s smirking at them from the entrance of the clearing. This feels annoyingly familiar.

“All ready to set forth?” Ardyn asks.

Another lightning strike in the distance.  _ So you have Chosen, O King. So to your challenge rises the Storm.  _ Gentiana’s voice in Noctis’s head. 

“Challenge?” Noctis asks.

Prompto glances at him. “You say something, Noct?”

Noctis shakes his head.

_ Hurry hence. Fear not the Stormsender’s fury. He seeks to test, not to end his Chosen. _

“Another headache?” Ignis asks, a little crease forming between his brows.

“Gentiana. She told me...” Noctis could have sworn he saw Ardyn’s expression change to--something--but when he looks, Ardyn’s smirk is back in place. “...to hurry.”

“Well, we’d better get to it, then,” Ignis says.

Noctis walks towards the entrance until he’s about two inches away from Ardyn. Noctis glares (almost directly) upwards at his infuriatingly immobile roadblock. 

Ardyn grins down at him.

“Let’s go,” Noctis bites out.

}{

“Are we there yet?” Prompto yells over the howling wind. 

“What do you think?” Noctis yells back.

“On a clear day,” Ignis shouts, “We should have arrived at least an hour ago.”

“I swear that lightning isn’t  _ any  _ closer _ , _ ” Prompto gripes. 

“Less whining, more moving,” Gladio bellows. 

A particularly strong gale in the midst of a step causes Noctis to lose his balance and stumble sideways into Ardyn’s sopping wet coat. Instinctively, Noctis tries to push away, but the action just sends him even further off balance. There’s a steadying arm around Noctis’s shoulders.

“Careful, now,” Ardyn purrs in Noctis’s ear. Cold fingertips touch his arm, and Noctis shivers. How is a temperature like that even possible? Is it just his fingers? Bad circulation? He’s not  _ worried  _ obviously, just--

As the wind switches direction, Noctis shoves against Ardyn and stumbles a few steps ahead of him. 

Ignis gives Noctis a look.  _ All right? _

Noctis grimaces. Ignis pointedly inserts himself between Noctis and Ardyn.

By the time they finally arrive at the second runestone, the gray sky has darkened to black. The high walls of stone block out most of the wind, and they quickly run up the path and into a clearing. The tree sparks purple as Noctis touches it--this time without struggle--and a shock of alien memory surges mercilessly into his mind. An island, reaching for the sky. Luna, glowing with Light. No, not Luna--someone older. A dark prison, impenetrable walls of swords, something (someone?) at the center, the lightning constantly striking it (him?) too bright to see. Blood. Whose blood? Its (his)?

“Gentiana again?” Gladio asks.

Noctis grimaces. The vision is still pounding in his head. “There’s...an Oracle, talking...the swords are shining, they’re pointing in at--they’re coming, oh f--”

Noctis flinches away. The images stop. He tries to even out his breaths and unclench his fists. His fingernails sport shallow red crescents at their tips. Blood. 

“Noct?” Prompto asks. 

“That...island. By Galdin,” Noctis says slowly.

“Angelgard,” Gladio says.

“I think I need to go there.”

“If you’ll recall, the boats aren’t running. As a certain ‘man of no consequence’ told us.” Ignis levels a cold look at Ardyn. Ardyn is not looking at Ignis. He’s facing away, admiring the clearing.

“So. Any ideas?” Prompto asks. He leans against the lee of the rock encircling the runestone.

Well, yes. But not a very good one. Noctis approaches Ardyn. “Hey. You have a…”

Something is off about Ardyn. His lips are set in a pleasant smile (or as pleasant as it ever gets), but his eyes….

“Ardyn?” Noctis tries.

“Yes?” Ardyn looks at Noctis, his face now arranged in a more natural expression. 

Somehow, it feels like even more of a performance than usual. But he doesn’t look... _ bad _ , not nearly as terrible as he had on the dropship. At least, from what Noctis can make out in the unearthly glow of the runestone.

“Something the matter?” Ardyn asks. Noctis can feel the cool puff of his words, and realizes he’s leaned in far too close. Noctis does not jerk backwards. He straightens up slowly, with dignity. He stops frowning.

“Give us a lift to Angelgard?” Noctis asks casually.

Ardyn’s expression briefly flashes into something--else--before he smirks. “You wish to ride with me again?”

What was that look? Oh. Right. “I won’t. Um. Do that to you. Again.” Noctis feels his ears warm. “I swear. And it won’t be long. Just….”

Ardyn raises his eyebrows. Amusement. “Just?” he prompts, mouth slowly molding around the word, lips parted (not chapped, despite...everything). 

“Let me pay this time,” Noctis insists. He will owe this man nothing.

Ardyn chuckles. “As you wish, Highness.” He gives a bow in what little space exists between them. His coat flaps opens a little, touching Noctis’s chest, and his nose brushes Noctis’s wilting hair. 

Only when Ardyn straightens back up does Noctis take a breath, and he feels the exhaustion of the day crash into him all at once. 

The rain stops, but thunder rumbles in the distance. The storm is moving, and Noctis can guess where to.

“Let’s find a place for the night,” Noctis announces.

}{

Progress is much quicker now that they don’t need to fight the wind. Their powers return partway to Leide. Naturally, Ardyn still insists on escorting them to the Prairie Outpost. 

“We...may do well to have him see us through the Norduscaean blockade,” Ignis admits reluctantly.

“Didn’t we totally destroy that thing?” Prompto asks.

“It’s the Empire,” Gladio says. “We could destroy it ten times and they’d still have it back up eventually.”

They make it through, as expected. This time, Ardyn doesn’t even need to say anything--he waves lazily up at a guard, and the heavily fortified gate opens. Noctis notes that it shuts again after them. The one they busted through was nothing compared to this. Would they be able to make it back (to Luna, to his Dad, to Iris)? What if the Empire erected even more blockades? Noctis grits his teeth. Would they have to continue relying on Ardyn’s help?

A loud groan from Prompto startles Noctis out of his thoughts. They’ve arrived at the outpost.

“We’re seriously staying with Ardyn again?” Prompto asks, mournfully gazing at the caravan.

“And this time, you do not get the couch,” Noctis demands.

Prompto frowns. “Huh?”

“Yeah,” Gladio says. “Let the Imperial Chancellor have his own space.”

“That he may not intrude upon ours,” Ignis adds. Then, under his breath, “More than he already has, at any rate.”

Noctis looks around and catches sight of a long coat disappearing behind a nearby building. Well. It isn’t as if they need to inform the man. They just need to claim the beds before he does. 

Unless he gets any ideas of--of sharing ( _ coexisting) _ .... 

No. Ardyn wouldn’t. That whole horrifying encounter had been a bluff. Had to have been. And Noctis will not seek out such an encounter again.

Ardyn doesn’t show up. Not when they play King’s Knight, not when Gladio passionately describes the myriad ways of eating cup noodles, not when Noctis flops down on the bunk beneath Prompto.

It’s past midnight when Noctis finally caves and gets up, walks past an empty couch, and heads for the building. 

Ardyn is not behind it, nor is he inside. He’s not in the neighboring buildings either. Noctis is about to give up when he spots the back of a familiar form. Finding him evokes a strange mix of relief and dread.

“Where have you been?”

Ardyn turns, but not fully, lips curved into an unusually sharp smile. “Ah! Your Highness.” He glances to the side, addressing someone around the corner. “I believe this one is the King you seek.”

Noctis approaches, takes a look behind Ardyn and sees--

“Gentiana,” Noctis greets.

“King of Light,” she returns, eyes closed.

Noctis pauses, glancing at Ardyn. “You...know each other?”

“Oh, hardly. Who am I to be graced with such divine attention? That honor should be left to the Chosen King, no?” Ardyn chuckles.

_ What are you up to?  _ Noctis opens his mouth, but he chokes on something bitter.  _ I came all this way to…. _

Then, Ardyn is placing a hand on Noctis’s back, urging him forward. “Don’t be shy, now.”

Noctis scowls. “And don’t push me _ ,  _ you--” Ardyn’s out of sight, footsteps fading away. Well, that’s just fine. Probably best he doesn’t swear before a Messenger. 

“What was he doing here?” Noctis asks instead.

“Aiding the King, so your flower-sender claims,” Gentiana says.

Well, that isn’t suspicious. Noctis will have to bring it up with the others later. “You were looking for me?”

“We seek the guide the King.”

“I know where I’m going. Angelgard, right?”

Gentiana nods once, but does not speak.

“And I saw the trial. Struck by lightning and pierced by swords.” Noctis grimaces at the memory and rubs his chest. “I’ll be dying again, won’t I?”

Gentiana’s eyes snap open. She’s frowning and staring very hard at Noctis. She begins to approach, very intently. Shit.

“I mean. I’m grateful that I can’t die. It’s useful. Really. The Armiger is. Great too. So is warping. Actually. I’m thankful for all my powers. Blessings.”

Noctis feels his heels hit the edge of the wall behind him. Gentiana stops an arm’s breadth away, reaches out, and touches her fingertips to Noctis’s chest.

There’s the familiar tightening, and then a roaring surge of--surprise, pain, fury. Noctis gasps, leaning against the wall for support. Is that Gentiana? She always seems so calm, but….

“I’m sorry,” Noctis manages. 

Gentiana withdraws her hand, and the deluge abruptly stops. “We require no apology.” She takes a step backwards, and closes her eyes once more. “That which you saw was a trial. That which seeks to threaten you will come before.”

Noctis pushes off from the wall. “What do you mean?” he asks cautiously.

“Take heed, King. Enemy forces would block your path and extinguish your Light.”

His Light. “Wait,” Noctis blurts, hoping to stop Gentiana’s likely imminent departure. “I heard that the Crystal has no Light of its own. That...it accumulates power from the kings of Lucis. Is that true?”

Gentiana smiles. It isn’t an entirely happy expression. “Not just the kings of Lucis,” she says. A blink, and she’s gone.

}{

When Noctis’s feet carry him back to the caravan, he spots Ardyn sitting outside. Of course. Just going to sleep would be too much to hope for. Well, at least he isn’t terrorizing Prompto.

Noctis comes to a stop just before Ardyn’s chair. “What are you doing?”

“Awaiting your arrival, of course,” Ardyn replies smoothly. 

“I meant wh…” Noctis stifles a yawn. Who is he kidding? A straight answer from Ardyn? “Oh, forget it. Come on, let’s get some sleep. Couch is yours.”

“You sought me for  _ sleep _ ?” Ardyn’s lips twitch in amusement. The lamplight glints off his eyes.

This game again? Noctis crosses his arms and tilts his chin, looming as much as he can over Ardyn. “Yeah. Can’t have our escort falling asleep on his feet.” He hesitates. “Unless you wanted to bail and pick us up at Galdin Quay.”

“Oh, no,” Ardyn says, leaning back to look directly upwards at Noctis. Belatedly, Noctis realizes he’s trapped between Ardyn’s legs. “This escort will take you  _ all _ the way.”

Noctis shifts his weight. Ardyn’s...joking, right? He can’t really mean--

Ardyn’s shoe pushes against the back of Noctis’s leg and he loses balance, tipping forward, hands out and fingers splayed instinctively catching himself against Ardyn’s chest. 

“Wh--” Noctis sputters. The fabric of Ardyn’s excessive vests feels extremely fine beneath Noctis’s fingertips. Noctis’s face brushes against Ardyn’s stubbly cheek (also cold as fuck). Brine and sulfur--and this close, Noctis can detect a curiously sweet musk as well. He desperately tries not to inhale. Not very deeply, at least. He can feel Ardyn chuckle, a low rumble that travels through Noctis’s palms and sends a shiver down his spine. Noctis hurriedly straightens up and kicks Ardyn’s (right) foot out of the way, scowling.

“What the hell was that?” Noctis demands. His pulse is pounding in his ears.

“My mistake,” Ardyn graciously apologizes. He’s still sitting like that. Classic prostitute ( _ escort)  _ pose. Noctis almost retreats (flees) into the caravan. 

Almost. Something feels strange.

Ardyn’s pants are rather tight, at least for his generation. He’s sunk pretty low in his seat in their brief tussle. As a result, there is very little room for imagination. And what’s there is...well, uninterested.

_ An act.  _ Of course it is. Half curious, half insulted  _ (really?)  _ Noctis hesitates at the caravan door.

“Go on,” Ardyn waves him off with a particularly filthy smirk. “I’ll join you shortly.”

Ugh. “I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Noctis retorts. He makes it halfway to his bed when the strange feeling coalesces into a sudden realization of what Ardyn’s just done. Or rather, what he’s made Noctis do--leave. A very smooth transition from  _ get some sleep  _ to  _ I’d prefer if you didn’t.  _

Noctis stubbornly sits on the couch, leaning against the armrest to his right. He waits. (He yawns.)

And waits.

}{

Swords, glowing bright, converging in on him, brighter and brighter--

Noctis jerks awake. There is a flashlight shining in his face. He’s still sitting but his arms are numb right about where his forehead used to be, and his ribs ache where the cheap couch armrest digs into them. 

“Quit it,” Noctis grumbles, shoving away the light and the cold fingers around it. Oh. He tries to sit up. “You stayed.” There’s a chuckle, and the light flicks off. Ardyn. Dangerous, can’t be trusted, something. Currently being a dick. Noctis attempts to gather some caution from his scattered thoughts. It’s probably not enough.

“So I did,” Ardyn murmurs, lies down on the couch, and drapes his right leg over Noctis’s lap.

Noctis tries to blink the spots out of his eyes. “What…?”

“I do believe you’ve allowed me the settee.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Noctis tries to get up. He puts both his hands underneath the thick fabric pant and half heartedly lifts. Ardyn’s leg is made of lead. Noctis scowls. “Get off.”

“But why? I must say, this is quite comfortable,” Ardyn lazily protests.

“You….” No. It is too late and Noctis is too tired to keep his eyes open, let alone play this game. “Fine,” he mumbles as he flops back against the couch. A brief flicker of surprise is the last thing he registers before he falls asleep.

}{

The first thing he registers when he wakes up is a pleasant smell--like sweet musk drowned in the sea. He squeezes his pillow. The pillowcase is a bit ruffly and the stuffing rather firm, but it’s quite comfortable. “Good morning,” it rumbles.

Noctis freezes mid-inhale. His eyelids fly open. “What the--!” He scrambles to get up, snatching his arm from around Ardyn’s waist and flailing his limbs in a poor attempt to remove himself from his current situation. He tries to kick Ardyn’s highly uncooperative legs away from his, why is this asshole…. 

Pain? Noctis stills. Ardyn’s expression is very rigid.

“Shit. I forgot,” Noctis mumbles. He looks down to study the entanglement of their legs. Noctis’s boot has gone through the red strap of Ardyn’s hip pouch. Furthermore, it appears Noctis has managed to kick the laces loose on that boot. He props himself up sideways on his left elbow, which is sandwiched snugly between the couch back and Ardyn’s waist. Noctis’s boot laces look like they’re dangerously close to tangling. He hesitates, right hand hovering in the air. Oh, what the hell. He’s already spent the night sleeping on top of this damned pervert.

Noctis reaches his hand between Ardyn’s legs to gather the ends of his boot laces. After pulling them through, Noctis supports Ardyn’s left thigh and holds it still while fully removing his boot from inside the red strap. Carefully, he extracts his hand and places it on the outer edge of the couch, on the opposite side of Ardyn’s waist to Noctis’s elbow. He rises to all fours, lifts his right foot to clear Ardyn’s left leg, plants it on the floor, and pushes the rest of his body off to follow. 

Noctis stands beside the couch. Ardyn is still lying down. He’s not smiling. His eyes are wide, brow furrowed, and lips slightly parted. Like something very unexpected has just occurred.

“Ardyn?” Noctis tries.

There’s a shift, and then Ardyn dons his stage smirk. “I trust last night was to your satisfaction?”

Noctis straightens up, scowling. “As if.”  _ Someone  _ wouldn’t let him leave.

“Come, now,” Ardyn sits up slowly, sliding his legs down and clicking his boots on the floor. “Did you sleep poorly?”

Well… “No,” Noctis grumbles.

The corners of Ardyn’s lips curve upwards as he rises to his feet, towering over Noctis. (Does he  _ have  _ to?) “So your expectations lie beyond mere sleep? Not to worry.”

Noctis stiffens as Ardyn cups his cheek, cold fingers imprinting goosebumps on his flesh. Ardyn bends down. Noctis sets his jaw, this again, fuck this, he doesn’t owe this asshole  _ anything  _ now--

“There’s always tomorrow night,” Ardyn breathes into Noctis’s ear, and...that’s it? 

Noctis stares as Ardyn disappears through the caravan door. He can feel a headache coming, and the day has literally just begun. 

It does not improve as he steps outside and almost walks directly into Ignis.

“We need to talk.” Ignis actually takes him by the elbow and steers Noctis aside.

“Yeah?” Noctis attempts casually. A small current of discomfort is rising. 

It’s a feeling that usually comes when he’s procrastinated a project to its deadline or he’s missed an important Council meeting or he’s been rude to some bigwig. Such an act is usually preceded by a tiny  _ maybe you shouldn’t be doing this  _ voice that Noctis then dismisses as irrelevant. Such an act is usually followed by Ignis’s pointed disapproval that Noctis pretends not to care too much about.  There is then a period of far better behavior in what is definitely not an attempt to impress Ignis before Ignis decides, at random, to make some extravagant and unusually amazing meal for Noctis and the current of discomfort evaporates.

Usually, though, Prompto and Gladio are not also staring him down. What was it this time? Did Noctis forget something important? 

“The Chancellor informed us that you willingly sought him as a...bed partner, last night,” Ignis says.

“Oh.” Of course. They would all have seen Noctis and Ardyn on the way out.

“Why? Was it an attempt to steal that contraption?” Ignis asks.

“Ah, shit. I forgot about that,” Noctis curses.

“Did he force you? Was it a threat?” Gladio demands.

“No! No, just...I fell asleep on the couch.”

“What!” Prompto exclaims. “So you just wanted the couch yourself? Not. Cool.”

“Do you recall the conversation we had regarding sleeping arrangements?” Ignis presses.

“It wasn’t like that! I didn’t mean to.” Noctis crosses his arms.

“So Chancellor Izunia availed himself of your company, without your knowledge?” Ignis asks.

“I knew,” Noctis mumbles at the ground. There’s a shock of warmth on his front. He startles. Gladio is holding an empty bottle in his hand. The Remedy seeps into Noctis’s shirt and drips onto his boots. 

“Really?” Noctis asks.

Gladio shrugs. “Had to check.”

Ignis sighs. “Though the treaty is irrelevant at this point, might I caution you against courting both Lady Lunafreya and the Chancellor of--”

“Six! Ignis, no. I’m not.  _ Courting  _ him,” Noctis sputters.

There’s a pause. Ignis adjusts his glasses. “And Lady Lunafreya?”

“Dunno.” Noctis shifts uncomfortably under Ignis’s piercing gaze. “She’s...a good friend,” he adds. Noctis can’t say he’s never considered marrying Luna before the treaty, but it’s in the same way he’s considered restyling his hair or zapping someone’s broken taillight back to life.

“Uh huh.” Prompto does not sound convinced. “Look, hypothetically, if you wanna get it on with Ardyn--”

“I am  _ not-- _ ”

“--that is totally your call,” Prompto continues. “I just want to let you know, you could do  _ way _ better than that creep.”

“Even if he does appear to aid our efforts,” Ignis adds.

“Not a good reason to bang him,” Gladio says.

“Which it isn’t,” Ignis agrees.

“Which I’m not….”

}{

Noctis rents chocobos. Ardyn elects to drive--sometimes ahead, opening heretofore nonexistent blockades; sometimes behind, catching them unawares ( _ “ _ did you just  _ lap  _ us?”). It’s nearing sunset when they reach the Balouve mines--which also appear to be blockaded. 

“Huh,” Prompto remarks. “That wasn’t there before.”

“What, you wanna go it again?” Gladio asks.

“Great idea,” Noctis deadpans. Ardyn’s red convertible slows to a stop. “Hey, Ardyn, want to....”

There is a hard glint in Ardyn’s eye that disappears when Noctis blinks again. 

“Not this one, I’m afraid,” Ardyn replies.

Ardyn cedes ground, and Noctis steps forth. 

“What, can’t get us through?” Something is wrong with Noctis, because he doesn’t know how to stop playing this game.  

“So eager to die, Your Highness?” Venom.

“Who’s to say I will?” Noctis challenges, pulling up his chocobo alongside the car.

It’s a strange experience, looking down at Ardyn from above. Noctis can’t read his expression, but it holds a sharp edge.

“Perhaps an Aramusha,” Ignis cuts in verbally and physically. Noctis’s bird squawks as Ignis’s pushes it farther from the car. 

“We can handle….” Well. Could they really? Noctis reins in his chocobo, who is still a little indignant. 

“We’d best find a place to settle down for the night,” Ignis says. It’s just a suggestion, but only just.

“Right,” Noctis concedes. 

No. They probably wouldn’t be able to handle the mines again, not with their current strength. And Noctis wouldn’t have tried, save for whatever irrational aspect of himself decided it was always best to contest Ardyn. 

Was it really irrational, though, if his death wouldn’t stick in any case? 

“Who’s up for a bite?” Prompto asks.

Noctis dismounts and glances up to see where his chocobo had led him. Longwythe. There’s a motel here, and Noctis’s gaze slips to Ardyn without his mind’s consent. Of course Ardyn is looking--and he winks upon catching Noctis’s eye.

“Welcome back,” the receptionist says to Noctis. “The usual?”

“Two rooms,” Noctis clarifies.

The receptionist pauses, glancing around before catching sight of their new traveling companion. His eyes linger a bit longer than necessary. “That fellow’s with you?” the receptionist asks skeptically.

“Give him his own room.”

}{

It is much, much later when Noctis finds himself tired but once again awake. He slips off the bed, careful not to wake Prompto, grabs the keys, and pulls the door shut very quietly behind him.

The door to the roof, if he recalls correctly, only requires a bit of encouragement to give in to him. Let's see--a bit to the left, inwards--

To his surprise, the door opens easily. What's more, it sounds like the space is already occupied. He should probably leave. That would be the appropriate thing to do, obviously whoever it was wanted a bit of privacy that the thin hotel walls wouldn't have been able to afford--

"--do you seek?" Gentiana.

"So suspicious! Your Chosen will need  _ all  _ the aid he can muster. Wouldn’t you agree?" That smooth, low baritone. He would recognize it anywhere.

What are the two of them doing? Noctis remembers the last time the two of them were together. Once could have been a coincidence, but twice.... 

"We did not ask your aid in this," Gentiana says. Noctis has almost reached the motel sign, but can't see either of them yet--they must be just around the corner. 

"No, of course not. Ah! In fact, I don't recall being asked anything."

A moment of silence. Did they discover him? 

"In that hand which fate has dealt you, we do not take pleasure," Gentiana says.

They probably haven’t noticed him. Noctis cautiously inches forward.

"Really,” Ardyn drawls.

“To aid the Chosen is our duty...as has it ever been.” 

“Is it.”

“Of this will we speak to the Tidemother, should the Chosen seek her Mark on these same terms. As have we spoken to the Stormsender.”

A pause. “Why are you telling me this?”

“We wish for peace.”

There’s a gust of wind, and Noctis is pretty sure Gentiana is gone. The conversation is over, and boot steps fade away. Noctis sits against the wall, holding the Mark of the Archaean in his hand and examining it in the soft moonlight. What did Gentiana see in this coin? The “terms” of the Mark? 

More importantly, what does Ardyn have to do with all this? 

“It’s rude to eavesdrop.” 

Noctis takes pride in not jumping. He simply looks up at Ardyn.

“It’s rude to talk about people behind their backs,” Noctis returns.

Ardyn sighs. “Touché. Meddlesome things, these Messengers.”

Noctis opens his mouth.  _ What did she want with you? What were you talking about?  _ As if he’d get any kind of a straight answer out of Ardyn...or Gentiana. Noctis closes his mouth. Ardyn leans one shoulder against the wall beside Noctis. Looming.

“The Marks weren’t always so small,” Ardyn says, gesturing towards the coin in Noctis’s hand.

Noctis looks down at the finely etched Mark.  _ How do you know?  _ It was probably a lie anyway. “Yeah?”

“They were quite large, in fact. The size of...oh, your chamberlain’s dinner plates?”

“So the king just carried  _ dinner plates  _ in his pockets?” 

Ardyn chuckles. “Oh, they weren’t carried in his pockets.”

Noctis does not know where this (probably lewd joke) is going, and he does not want to know. He remains silent. To his surprise, Ardyn sits beside him. Why is he even here? What possessed him to go to the roof?

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Noctis grumbles.

Ardyn chuckles. Bitter. “I have a touch of insomnia.”

Right. He’s actually never seen Ardyn asleep. Or even tired, really. But the dark circles under his eyes tell a different story. Of course. He’s an actor.

Ardyn catches him looking. Noctis does not look away, but he can’t help his gaze sliding off-center from full-on eye contact, just a little bit.

“Iggy makes this tea. It helps you sleep. Tastes like grass, but it works. I could ask him to make you some.”

There’s a flicker of surprise. Ardyn’s eyes widen fractionally before the expression is swiftly suppressed. 

“Very kind of you,” Ardyn says. “Though it’s hardly necessary. I get by well enough.”

“Sleep is important,” Noctis argues. 

“As you’ve demonstrated,” Ardyn agrees. “And as you currently demonstrate.”

Noctis scowls. “I don’t need….”  _ Well, that helps your case. Try again, Noct.  _ Noctis takes a deep breath. “Fine. I can ask him to make some for both of us.”

Ardyn raises an eyebrow. Noctis leans back against the wall again, breaking their not-quite eye contact. Noctis stares at the night sky. In the distance, there’s a daemonic howl that terminates in a whine. A yearning for what is long gone.

Noctis doesn’t think about it. He’s good at that.

“What will you do?” Noctis asks. “After you take us to Angelgard.”

“As much as I enjoy your company, I do have matters to take care of elsewhere.” Ardyn sighs dramatically. “This may be our last night together for quite some time.”

Maybe he should arrange for a pickup too. “Give me your number.”

“Oh, Noctis. You can have far more than that.”

Noctis sets his jaw. His pulse is racing, but he knew this was coming. He’s ready this time. So, when cold fingertips touch his neck, he turns, surging forward and pressing his lips on Ardyn’s. They’re smooth and taste like cherry lip balm.

For a moment, Ardyn is still. Surprise, amusement, irritation. Noctis feels a swell triumph before Ardyn moves again, and  _ oh.  _ He tastes exactly as good as he smells. Noctis pushes in to Ardyn’s open mouth and--

Noctis pulls back, grimacing. “Six. You’re  _ cold.”  _ Even inside his mouth?

Ardyn’s expression  _ closes  _ so quickly that Noctis can feel it snap in place. “So you’ve said.”

Is he still sick? A chronic thing? Is this related to his leg? How is he still alive and functioning? Noctis rises to his feet. The desert climate is unforgivingly chilly at night. Being on the roof is maybe not the best idea. “Come on. Let’s get back inside.” Noctis extends a hand down to Ardyn.

Ardyn does not take it. He does not make to get up. Instead, he tips his hat. “Good night, Your Highness.”

}{

The rest of the journey down to Galdin is not quiet, with Prompto chattering away in the background, eliciting laughs and commentary from Gladio and Ignis. Noctis joins in every once in a while, but his attention is elsewhere. 

Ardyn drives far ahead of them the entire way.

“Ignis, do you have that tea? For sleeping.”

As expected, Ignis gives him that concerned expression--brows furrowed, corners of his lips downturned, gaze flickering over Noctis’s face. Noctis hates it.

“Certainly. I will brew a pot for you tonight.”

“I just need the leaves. Or flowers, whatever. Dry.” Noctis holds out his hand.

Ignis pauses, raising an eyebrow. “A moment.” After a bit of systematic digging, he pulls out a small bag and hands it over to Noctis.

They arrive at the hill just overlooking Galdin Quay. Ardyn’s car vanishes around a turn, and then,

“Imperials!” Prompto exclaims.

“Probably the Imperial Chancellor,” Gladio says.

“Oh! Awesome. So we trust him now, right?” Prompto cheerily approaches the grounded dropship.

“No,” Ignis says clearly.

“If he wanted to trap us for the Empire, he probably would have done it already,” Noctis argues. “He’ll take us to Angelgard.”

“Probably,” Gladio agrees.

As expected, the hatch opens and Ardyn waves them in. Prompto tries to jump in with his chocobo and finds that the bird does not share his eagerness to get inside. He dismounts and pats the bird.

“Are you pouting?” Gladio asks.

“No,” Prompto says, slinking into the dropship behind Gladio. 

Noctis enters last. He hesitates just before Ardyn. “Last night. I….”

“Yes?” Ardyn prompts. He’s all icy composure and patient patronization. 

Noctis doesn’t know why, but it’s infuriating.

“For your insomnia.” Noctis thrusts the bagged tea impatiently into Ardyn’s cold hand. He lifts up onto the tips of his toes, grabs the front of Ardyn’s coat collar, and presses a firm kiss to Ardyn’s lips. 

Noctis steps back, ears burning. He steals a quick glance at Ardyn. He hasn’t moved, and is holding the tea like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Sorry. About what I said. I was just. Surprised.”

“...Of course.” Ardyn’s eyes narrow as he considers Noctis and turns the tea bag over in his fingers.

“It’s not poisoned,” Noctis grumbles. “I didn’t tell him it was for you.”

Ardyn’s brow furrows, and there’s a tiny shake of the head--so small that Noctis almost doesn’t see it. His lips part, but then he carefully pockets the bag and turns to address the others. Ardyn steps aside so that Noctis is no longer hidden from their view. “Please, have a seat.”

“No thank you,” Ignis declines immediately.

“We’re good,” Gladio says. Prompto pretends he wasn’t trying to sit on one of the jump seats.

Ardyn shrugs and spreads his hands. “Suit yourselves.” He sits down, legs unnecessarily wide open. (As usual.)

This dropship is smaller than the last, with a few jump seats along the edges and no windows--only strips of unadorned white light along the floor, walls, and ceiling. Farther back, Ardyn’s car is parked and locked down.

Gladio glares at the car. “Heard anything from Cindy?” 

Noctis shakes his head.

“Really?” Ardyn drawls. “How terribly inconvenient.”

“Indeed,” Ignis manages through gritted teeth.

“In my experience,” Ardyn continues, “The longer it is lost, the harder it is to find. And sometimes, what you find is entirely different from what you sought.” 

“We’ll find it,” Noctis says with a confidence he doesn’t feel. “Even if--” 

The dropship rocks violently, and Noctis pitches forward. Behind him, Prompto yelps as everyone scrambles to regain their footing--which is nearly impossible, with the continued unforgiving motion of the ship.

“What’s happening?” Prompto shouts.

Right on cue, they hear the roar of thunder outside, breaking through the hum of the engine.

“Let’s hope this vessel is stronger than it appears.” Ignis steadies himself against the wall.

“Ramuh doesn’t want to kill us,” Noctis reasons hopefully. He braces himself against the opposite wall immediately next to Ardyn, who takes the opportunity to leer. Noctis tries to turn away and the ship rudely deposits him almost into Ardyn’s lap.

“Oh, my.” Ardyn unhelpfully pulls Noctis down the rest of the way between his legs. Noctis does  _ not  _ squeak.

“There. Isn’t that better?” he purrs into Noctis’s burning ear. Ardyn’s palms rest against Noctis’s waist.

“No.” Noctis does not look at his friends. He does have to admit that it’s much easier to keep his balance sitting than standing. But really, does it have to be here? With his backside pressed against Ardyn’s crotch, no less...oh no.

Noctis seems to be having a reaction. Worse(?), one that Ardyn  _ isn’t  _ having. Noctis tries to cover it. It kind of works, but squirming in the tight space between Ardyn’s legs most definitely does not improve the situation.

The ship shudders, and the turbulence eases a little.

“Noct,” Ignis says, offering his hand. As much as Noctis would like to take it, standing up would almost certainly reveal…

“I’m good, Iggy. Thanks.”

Ignis pauses. “If you say so.” He lets his hand drop. 

Prompto frowns at Noctis’s (presumably) beet red complexion. “You okay, buddy?”

“Fine,” Noctis manages, trying to keep still through the bumpy ride. Bumping against Ardyn’s.... Gods. Is  _ this  _ Ramuh’s trial?

The ship shudders to a stop. Somehow, Noctis manages to get up first, dashing out of the still-opening hatch into the storm. 

“Enjoy,” Ardyn calls out to them before the dropship ascends again.

The pouring rain and wind have them soaked and chilled within minutes. It’s slow going. The island is craggy, slippery, and barren. After a few shouted and barely audible attempts, they don’t talk. 

Noctis stops abruptly when Prompto pulls on his arm and points, yelling something that sounds like “bro!” 

Probably “road,” Noctis decides, once they actually get to it. It’s short, and leads from a towering structure surrounded by pillars of swords to a dead end on which lightning currently strikes. Noctis hesitates. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check out the structure before going to Ramuh’s trial. 

As soon as he enters the ring of massive swords, the sound of the storm quiets--as if it will not penetrate this circle. A much smaller blade streaks past, and Noctis just barely phases out of its path. He steps back and Gladio’s  _ there  _ shouldering ahead of him, greatsword at the ready. To Noctis’s left, Prompto with his gun. To Noctis’s right, Ignis with his daggers. 

“Long has it been, Noctis.”

A white-clothed man with very familiar white hair and piercing steel eyes approaches.

_ That which seeks to threaten you will come before. _

“Ravus,” Noctis greets warily.

“You seek the Storm’s blessing.” Ravus brandishes his sword. “You shall not receive it.”

“Hey. Watch it.” Gladio raises his sword. “You don’t--”

Ravus’s sword strikes the flat of Gladio’s blade, and sends him flying. Gladio hits one of the pillars and crumples in a heap at its base. 

“Gladio!” Noctis shouts, _ shit, is he okay _ ? He turns and there’s a pain on his cheek as Ravus’s blade nicks it. 

“Turn your back on me,  _ Chosen King, _ ” Ravus goads. “As your father did. This, you too, will regret.”

So, he never let that go. But, ‘you too?’ “What the hell are you talking about?” Noctis demands as he meets Ravus’s next blow with his Engine Blade.

Ravus sneers at him between their crossed swords. “Did you enjoy my little present for the Crown City?”

Noctis frowns. “You? But General Glauca was--” 

“ _ High Commander  _ Glauca,” Ravus corrects, pushing Noctis back several feet. “Yes. The Emperor’s favor falls upon the duplicitous psychopath,” Ravus rages as he pushes Noctis back a few more feet, “whose interest in alliteration eclipses pride in his own rank!” 

Ravus shoves Noctis’s blade off his, and there’s a  _ clash _ . “ _ General _ Glauca.”  _ Clang. _ “For  _ hearth  _ and  _ home.  _ You think that Imperial imbecile planned the attack?”

Noctis  _ snarls. _

The fight is ugly. Ignis’s daggers and Prompto’s bullets pierce through bits of Ravus’s coat, cutting a red mark on him for every five he leaves on them. Still, ranged weapons are far more effective than the melee Noctis and Gladio have to offer--they can barely keep up, especially with Gladio’s slower greatsword. Noctis calls his Armiger which staggers Ravus, but not enough. Noctis falters for a brief second, and Ravus’s blade slashes his chest.

They can’t take much more of this. Prompto curses. “He’s not messing around,” Prompto gasps, clutching his side on the ground.

The tip of Ravus’s blade presses against Noctis’s chest.

“Why are you doing this?” Noctis demands.

“Ignorant fool,” Ravus continues. “Believe you me, my mother would never have turned her back on you Lucian filth.”

Noctis grits his teeth. How dare he, as if he were better than all of them? “Yeah? What would she say if she could see you now? Loyal servant to the Empire, working to hunt down Luna?”

“ _ Fool! _ ” Ravus swings viciously. He parries Ignis with his (mechanical?) arm, as if swatting away a fly. Noctis tries to summon his Armiger once more, and Ravus knocks him down. Too fast. Too strong.

What the hell happened to Ravus?

“Heedless and senseless, the King plows on. You know not the price of the covenant.”

Noctis lies prone, lightheaded and leaking blood from a thousand cuts, Ravus’s sword at his throat. 

“And now,  _ Chosen King _ , you pay with your life!”

Noctis chokes, gurgling on his own blood as the blade plunges in, severing his trachea. Blackness dots and then obscures his vision, pain, he can’t breathe….

He gasps, throat intact, with a familiar tightening in his chest. Noctis’s vision swims back to the sight of Ravus’s stunned face far above his.

“Impossible,” Ravus breathes. As Noctis watches, Ravus’s face contorts in rage, and the blade goes his throat again.

“How?”

And again. 

“Why won’t you  _ die _ ? _ ” _

_ I definitely am,  _ Noctis wants to say as the pressure in his chest builds and his broken throat heals and splits and heals and splits and

}{

Noctis coughs and blinks away the blinding lightning that strikes about five inches away from his face. In its wake, Ravus crumples into a heap on the ground.

About damned time. 

Slowly, Noctis rolls onto his side. “Prompto?” He croaks.

No response. He can barely see the others, also lying on the ground. 

“Ignis? Gladio?”

Again, no response. It shouldn’t be possible, but the crushing pressure in his chest increases even further. Noctis tries to get up and his heart is going to explode so he crawls, they’re still alive, he can feel it, but not for long, please let him make it in time. 

One elixir. Prompto groans. Two elixirs. Ignis’s eyes flutter open behind cracked lenses. Three elixirs. Gladio coughs blood. Noctis grimaces in sympathy as Gladio wipes his mouth with the back of his ungloved hand. 

Noctis’s elbow gives out and he falls onto his side. Gladio’s eyes widen and he surges forward. 

“Shit, Noct, pull yourself together!”

_ Of all the delayed reactions….  _ Noctis can’t help it. He giggles _.  _

Gladio grabs a potion and smashes it against Noctis’s chest. The shock is too much on top of the pressure inside and Noctis gasps. “Ah! No. Stop, Gladio, I’m--I’m  _ fine--” _

“Highness,” Ignis breathes. His glasses are gone and his hands very delicately prod around Noctis’s face and neck. They come away very bloody. Oh.

“It’s fine, I’m--”

“Six! Noct, what--” 

Somehow, Noct is lying on the ground. His vision of the sky is obscured by raindrops and his friends’ faces until (and even after) he manages to convince them that he’s in no mortal danger.

There’s a shift far behind, and his friends are on their feet, braced in a tight semicircle around him. There’s a twinge in his chest that has nothing to do with his death.

“Impossible. How could this be?” Ravus is half-sitting, leaning heavily on his sword.

Noctis struggles to get up. Ignis notices immediately, and offers both hands to pull him to his feet. Noctis gladly takes them.

“Someone’s a sore loser,” Prompto grins cockily. Noctis can see his hands shaking.

“So. The Chosen King...cannot be stricken from this world.” Ravus’s eyes close, jaw working. “I concede.”

“Glad to hear it,” Noctis says tightly.

“The prophecy cannot be stopped...in this manner.” Ravus takes a breath to speak and then slumps over, unconscious yet again.

Prompto exhales very audibly. “You guys...know that guy?”

While Gladio explains, Ignis turns to Noctis. “What did Ravus mean? That you ‘cannot be stricken from this world.’”

“He killed me a few times,” Noctis admits. Well, maybe more than a few. “It didn’t stick.”

Ignis frowns, donning his spare glasses. “You came...back to life?”

“Yeah. Some kind of divine power?”

Ignis looks skeptical. “I’ve never been made aware of such a thing.”

Noctis shrugs. “Gentiana knows about it. And I didn’t”  _ haven’t been  _ “staying dead, so.”

“If you say so.”

Lightning strikes the stone at the other end of the path. They crack open in splitting thunder to reveal an entryway.

Time to face the Stormsender.

}{

The cavern descends and ascends, wending its way around great cages and dripping chains thicker than Noctis’s waist. Noctis doesn’t notice much of it, focusing on the shallow breaths he can squeeze into his tight chest. 

“What was this place?” Prompto wonders. “Any ideas, Ignis?”

“A prison,” Ignis replies. “Home to the vilest criminals in history.”

Noctis believes it. Every once in a while, they glimpse the chain again--deeper and deeper they go, until the path abruptly stops in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not quite. There is one way forward, buzzing with magic.

Noctis presses his hands against the stone wall and there’s a low rumble as it rolls aside, revealing a circular room, barren save for its exact center. Here, there are a set of thick metal rings in the floor and ceiling from which hangs thick coils of chain. They twist around each other and pool on the floor, almost like an old gnarled tree. Standing here, Noctis can faintly hear the sounds of the storm outside.

“Hey. You think we’re close the sur--”

White-hot electricity sears through Noctis, through the chain, and he can’t let go, muscles spasming to clench clench clench.

Noctis’s heartbeat stutters. Something very bad is about to occur.

There is a violet spark in the air.

Noctis is still here, but no longer  _ here.  _ His body is on fire, electricity burning through him while something thick oozes through not his pores, distorting not his vision, bouncing not off the floor along with blood and sweat and ragged breaths.

He can feel the swords above, around, slowly turning their attentions towards him and that  _ other _ within him.  _ Come to me, see me, strike me down and I will yet arise,  _ he taunts them. Their Light glows blindingly bright. He just needs to endure this. Just this, and Ramuh will give his blessing.

Their tips close in, scant inches away from his skin. Time slows, as if awaiting a decision.

Immense power, complete destruction, burnt grassland, and through it all, the  _ other. _

“I. Accept,” Noctis manages. 

The swords plunge into him, and he screams with (remembered?) pain as they dissipate, and the violet sparks course through his veins, breaking down the ancient air. A coin materializes in his hand. The Mark of the Fulgurian.

Noctis grins and collapses.

}{

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit longer than anticipated and somehow still hasn't quite gotten where I want yet--but we've reached a stopping point, and I figured I should put forth at least _something_. I hope it doesn't feel terribly incomplete or out of place.
> 
> If you're feeling a bit confused about (or suspicious of) what appears to be his "resurrection," don't worry. Noctis is confused too. Foolish boy. (But we love him anyway.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which help is accepted, and help is given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO @weirdfans made [ this ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY ADORABLE art](https://twitter.com/WEEirdFans/status/985268754572390401) of the date in Lestallum and the flower-giver. You cheeky bastard, Ardyn. C':
> 
> Please note the updated rating! It's nothing horrible, I promise.

He wakes to brilliant blue sky.

“Thank the Six,” Ignis says.

“Or maybe not, in this case,” Gladio grumbles.

“Let’s not do that again.” Prompto suggests.

Noctis grimaces, drawing a shallow breath. “Two down....” He rises into a sitting position very slowly. 

They’re just outside the cavern entrance. In the distance, a dirty white figure is starting to move towards them.

“That bastard,” Noctis curses.

Prompto quickly gets to his feet. “Can’t he just leave us alone?”

“It might be better that he comes to us.” Ignis crosses his arms. “He may well be our only way off the island.”

“Actu…” well, Noctis  _ was _ going to ask Ardyn for a contact number. But wait, hadn’t he? Ardyn had merely dodged the question.

As expected, really. 

“Yeah,” Noctis grumbles.

It is perhaps a good sign that Ravus does not unsheathe his weapon at any point in his trek--nor does he seem to be in any particular rush. His expression (or perhaps just his face) is stern and his bearing regal, but his clothes are hilariously ruined. Noctis just barely manages not to laugh. For his chest’s sake.

Ravus stops just short of Noctis. “The Chosen King,” he says. There is somewhat less venom than Noctis anticipated.

“Hey Ravus,” Noctis looks up from his seat on the stone ground. “If you’re done trying to kill us, want to give us a lift?”

“As the Fulgurian has accepted you, so too shall I.”

Noctis blinks. “You what?”

“Follow me,” Ravus says sharply.

Ten minutes later they’re boarding Ravus’s dropship, which is much larger but less sturdy than the one they rode coming in.

“Hey, um.” Prompto starts.

“My name is not ‘ _ um _ ’.”

“S-sorry! Commander Ravus,” Prompto stutters. “Do you maybe, ah, know where our car might be?”

Ravus glares at Prompto for a moment. “Yes.”

“Would you do us the great honor of escorting us,  _ Commander  _ Ravus?” Gladio asks.

“To its location I will take you, but no further.” Instead of flaying Gladio’s skin from his bones, as someone with that expression might, Ravus turns on his heel and disappears through a door.

Prompto slumps. “That guy is  _ terrifying.” _

Noctis sighs. “He wasn’t always like that.”

Ignis touches Noctis’s hand, which stops rubbing his chest. Oh. Damn, he forgot. “The same as before?” Ignis inquires, a little crease between his brows.

“I’m fine.”

No one looks particularly convinced. Maybe it’s all the drying blood around his neck. It is getting kind of itchy.

“Look, it’s all healed, okay? I’ll just...clean up a bit.”

This ship is a little smaller than the first one that Ardyn took them on, but the layout is similar. Noctis finds the bathroom without difficulty, and grimaces at his reflection. Well, he looks like either a vampire with no table manners or someone whose throat has been destroyed several times.

He’s almost done coating the sink with a solid layer of his blood when the door slides open. Ravus’s gaze slowly slides over Noctis’s hands, dripping collar, and the carnage over his sink.

“This is technically your fault,” Noctis reasons. 

Ravus closes his eyes briefly. “While my behavior was...unfitting, that is no excuse for what you’ve done.”

“What. You stab my neck fourteen times and I’m not  _ excused  _ for washing the blood out in your sink?” Too many words, too little breath. Noctis fights his tight chest for air.

“You are mistaken.”

Noctis huffs an incredulous laugh. “About  _ what,  _ Ravus?”

“Everything.”

“Ok, really. Did you forget how to hold a conversation in the last twelve years?”

Ravus’s face hardens. “I need not explain myself to the likes of  _ you. _ ”

“But you’ll help me get my car back? Last I checked, the Empire wanted me dead.”

“You are the Chosen King,” Ravus bites out.

“And you’re a Commander of the Imperial Army.”

Ravus stares at Noctis like he’s a very slow child. It is extremely irritating.

Noctis crosses his arms. He will not be looked down on. If both an army commander and the Chancellor are helping him, then…. “The Empire wants to see the prophecy through?”

Ravus turns away, disgusted. “Your retainers are looking for you. Perhaps one of them could lend you a brain.”

Wh..what?

“Why don’t you ask Ignis?” Ravus calls. “Surely he has plenty to spare.”

}{

“He hasn’t dissed me like that since we were kids,” Noctis says incredulously. 

“Perhaps he’s coming around,” Ignis suggests. 

“To what?” Prompto asks.

“Aiding the True King,” Gladio responds. He doesn’t appear terribly pleased.

The ship slows to a halt, and the ship’s maw slowly opens into...a Niflheim base.

“Or not?” Prompto says.

“Let’s go,” Noctis urges. He does not want to wait in this metal enclosure for MTs to start streaming in.

Fortunately, there is no MT welcoming party. Unfortunately, Noctis doesn’t see the Regalia.

“It doesn’t feel like a trap,” Prompto says hesitantly but hopefully.

“We can never rule out the...” Ignis trails off. “Is that...?” 

There’s a shiny glint of metal far off, circumscribed by traffic cones and caution tape. It’s a dark blue, and...oh. Oh, no.

What was once the Regalia lies quietly, defeated. Its front tires are deflated, sagging forward in a mockery of a bow. Just before the windshield, there is a great series of dents punctuated by deep gouges and gaping holes. The hood is slightly bent upwards at the edges from the force of what was clearly an attack on the vehicle itself. There’s a bubble of tired anger welling up in Noctis’s tight chest.

“Well, maybe whoever it was fought someone standing on top of the Regalia?” Prompto says.

“And managed to stab it in that exact spot. Repeatedly,” Ignis deadpans.

Noctis rubs his neck, grimacing in sympathy.

The rest of the car looks untouched, which is somehow even more insulting. A phone call to Cindy along with a few photos of the vehicle standing in its puddle of coolant and gasoline reveals that repairing such damage would take quite some time and material. 

“So what now?” Prompto asks. “We bring the car to Cindy?” 

“Yeah,” Noctis agrees. But before that, they would need a way to tow the vehicle out of an Imperial base. Behind them, the dropship they came in is still open. Ravus is helping them anyway, maybe he can…?

There’s the sound of an approaching car engine. Noctis almost recognizes the sound before he sees the bright red convertible.

“Why, hello,” Ardyn greets, raising a hand in greeting as he rolls up to them. “I see you’ve found your automobile.”

“Though it appears someone else found it first.” Ignis crosses his arms.

“Oh, my. Such a pity.”

It was him. It was definitely this fucking bastard. Somehow, Noctis is suddenly very very close to Ardyn.

“ _ You, _ ” Noctis hisses. He grabs--

Ardyn jerks the car forward, knocking Noctis off balance, and subtly adjusts his shirt. But it’s just a tad too late. Noctis saw it--a flash of bright white, just beneath Ardyn’s high collar that rather effectively cuts through his haze of anger. What was that? Noctis gasps for breath. 

“Watch it,” Gladio starts. 

Noctis interrupts. “No, that was...my fault.”

Ardyn chuckles. “How generous of you, Your Highness.” It sounds a little forced, and he doesn’t even bother to look back at them. There’s a sharp pain, and Noctis winces. Is he just going to leave? Something feels wrong.

Noctis warps ahead, catching up to the car. “Ard--ynnngh.” Shit. Something within him, bent and burdened with the force of repeated death and life and Ramuh’s trial finally  _ snaps. _ He loses balance and leans heavily against the car, which abruptly stops, jolting him almost to the ground.

“Yes?” Ardyn turns towards Noctis. Something about the movement is off, but Noctis is too busy trying to catch his breath to figure out what it is.

“Can you--” Noctis breaks off, coughing. On second thought, maybe they shouldn’t go straight to Hammerhead. Even if he asked Ardyn to escort them, Noctis feels like he would probably die on the way there.

“We’ll be--staying in--Lestallum,” Noctis finishes instead.

“Oh dear. Not feeling well?” Ardyn asks. “Not to worry. I can give you a lift.”

“Okay.” Noctis decides to ignore the usual patronizing tone.

“Noct.” Ignis is by his side, hand on his back. There’s a twinge in his chest, and Noctis grits his teeth.

“Think I--sprained something.”  _ My self.  _ With Ignis’s help, Noctis rounds the hood and collapses into Ardyn’s unforgivingly hard passenger seat. When Ignis tries to get in the back, Noctis holds up a hand.

“You guys--make sure--the car--” 

“We’ll see the Regalia to Lestallum. Keep your phone on.” Ignis very clearly does not like this arrangement, but he does not voice it. Instead, he glares at Ardyn before shutting the door and stepping back.

“Thanks,” Noctis says to Ignis. 

“My pleasure,” Ardyn responds.

Noctis does not roll his eyes.

As the car slowly draws away, Noctis tries to take deeper breaths. Ardyn hasn’t looked at him yet, but his smirk is obviously not a reaction to anything the base has to offer. At the same time, though, now that they’re alone….

“Are you okay?” Noctis asks quietly.

The smirk disappears. “Me? Perhaps you should assess your own situation first.”

Noctis scowls. “I’m fine.” 

Ardyn raises an eyebrow. 

“I’ll be fine,” Noctis amends, waving it off. Ardyn’s carefully looking at him now, but the movement--from this perspective, it’s easier to tell. Ardyn’s tilting like his entire torso has locked up. “You get into a fight?” Noctis asks skeptically. He doesn’t expect a real response, considering Ardyn’s track record of avoidant and cryptic responses. 

“You could say that.”

Noctis nods. “Hope you won.”

Ardyn’s carefully blank face twists into--surprise? A harsh bark of laughter escapes, and then he appears to catch himself. A pause as he looks steadily ahead at the road. “As do I.” He’s clutching the wheel rather tightly. The leather of his gloves complains just a little.

They arrive in Lestallum very quickly. Ardyn doesn’t bother backing into the spot, instead driving straight in and killing the engine. He faces the stone wall ahead of them. 

Night has completely settled in now, leaving a smattering of stars high in the sky. 

“Is my face really so riveting?” Ardyn teases.

Oh. Noctis is staring. He almost jerks his gaze away, but...that would be conceding. Instead, he does the opposite. Noctis leans forward, letting his gaze trail over Ardyn’s rather strong features. Elegantly angled brows over deep-set, deceptive eyes framed by thick lashes. Straight, masculine nose, thin lips that shine and look--and  _ are  _ quite soft, unlike the hard angle of his jaw, dotted with rough, scratchy stubble that extends just slightly beneath his high collar.

Ardyn’s lips part. “Noctis?”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you intend to stare forever, or shall we--”

Noctis closes the breath of space between them, pressing his lips to Ardyn’s cheek, cupping his strong jaw to meet--

A flare of pain. Huh. Ardyn hasn’t moved, has he...? 

Noctis jerks backwards. “Shit. Shit, I’m--are you--fuck.” Panic. “I didn’t mean to--I thought you wanted….”

“As I was saying,” Ardyn continues rigidly, “Shall we retire for the evening?”

Noctis hurriedly stumbles out of the car. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s--let’s get to the Leville. I’ll get us a roo..um. Separate rooms.”

Ardyn...still hasn’t moved? Noctis finds himself fidgeting in front of the driver’s side door. “I can...I mean, if you need help, I’m--”

“I don’t  _ need help _ .” Ardyn’s mask is leaking, something impatient and bitter snarling through. Noctis takes a step back before he realizes it.

A breath. More calmly, “go ahead. I’ll join you later,” Ardyn says.

}{

“Ohhh, that feels good,” Prompto sighs, leaning back in the bubbling jacuzzi. “Why do cars have to be so heavy?”

“Shut it.” Gladio splashes Prompto. “You weren’t even pushing.”

“Was too,” Prompto pouts. “Should’ve just made Ardyn push it here.”

“If he was indeed responsible for the damage,” Ignis says. He’s the only one who’s not bare, instead wearing a swim tee and trunks.

Gladio snorts. “Please, Iggy. I’d expect Prompto to question it, but you?”

“I’m not saying he wasn’t.” Ignis rolls his shoulders. “But I’d expect a bit more gloating from the responsible party than...whatever that was.”

Noctis turns his head slightly. “Hmm?” The herbal aroma and steam are relaxing his body and mind into a slow puddle of mush.

“He didn’t even look at us! He was just sitting in his car, ‘enjoying the view’ or whatever,” Prompto grumbles.

In his car...Ardyn is still in his car? Damn it. Noctis groans, turns, and exits the bath with great effort. “I’m done,” he proclaims.

}{

Sure enough, Ardyn is still sitting in his ugly car. The door is open, though, and he’s sitting with his legs out, feet on the ground, leaning his side against the back of the seat. It would be easy to mistake him for some eccentric casually admiring the view in his garish car. Except, of course, for the rather obvious discomfort. And the fact that he’s been sitting there for at least 2 hours. 

“Hey,” Noctis greets.

“You’re back,” Ardyn states.

Noctis extends a hand. “Let’s get to the Leville.”

Ardyn stares at the hand, and then leans back to look up at Noctis. “And what interest do you have in taking me there?”

“You can’t just stay here all night,” Noctis huffs, exasperated. 

Ardyn does not move. “But it’s  _ comfy _ .”

Noctis does not roll his eyes. He drops his hand, rounds the car, and slides into the passenger’s side seat. “Right.”

“What are you doing?” Ardyn turns (his entire body) halfway around to address Noctis.

“Getting comfy.” Noctis puts his feet up on the dash. Ardyn’s eye twitches. Aha. Let’s see, what else? Noctis digs around in his pockets and grabs his phone, turns the volume to maximum, and begins playing King’s Knight _.  _ “I usually do the multiplayer campaigns, but there is a solo mode. It’s just usually a lot harder. And you don’t have anyone to back you up, which kind of sucks.” 

A thought strikes him. “Hey, Ardyn. Do you play King’s Knight?”

“No.” 

“Hey, give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Come on, you don’t even know what it’s about. There’s four players, and you--”

“You think I would play as ‘knight’ to your ‘king’?” 

Noctis blinks at the surprisingly hostile tone. “Is that so bad? I’d play as your knight, if you wanted.”

Ardyn’s eyes widen fractionally before he chuckles. Bitterness. “Would you?” 

“Sure. But that’s not how the game works. Everyone in the party is kind of an equal. They all have their own strengths and weaknesses. Like Ray Jack, for example….” Noctis expounds on the intricacies of gameplay, “accidentally” and repeatedly knocking into Ardyn’s arm with exaggerated movements, until Ardyn has to be bored out of his mind. Then, he keeps talking for a little longer.

After the game over music plays for about the tenth time, he yawns and takes a glance at Ardyn. The man has turned his back again. Stubborn. 

Six games later, a text from Ignis comes through. 

_ Where are you?  _

Noctis checks the time: midnight. They’re probably going to sleep. 

_ Out for a walk. Don’t wait up. _

Even though Noctis knows Ignis saw the text immediately, the response takes a full minute to arrive.

_ Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. _

So much for secrecy--as expected, really. Noctis replies with a thumbs-up emoticon and yawns again. 

About an hour later, he’s out of game money and won’t be able to get any more for another 12 hours. He yawns and pockets his phone. “Man, I could fall asleep right here.”

“You could also join your friends.”

“Only if you let me take you to the hotel.” 

“Who’s to say I won’t just drive out of the city? Leave you somewhere you’ve never been?”

Well, Ardyn’s legs have remained outside the car in basically the same position since Noctis got here. If that’s any indication…. “Yeah, I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t  _ think… _ ?”

Noctis groans, pushing himself slightly more upright. “You weren’t planning to sleep, were you? It’s not insomnia if you don’t even  _ try _ .” 

Ardyn frowns. “Must you concern yourself with my sleeping habits?”

“No.” Noctis yawns. “But I will.” 

“Why?”

Actually...that’s a good question. There’s obviously something between them, but what? Maybe he’ll think about it. Later. Noctis shrugs. “Well, _someone_ has to. It’s not like you do.” 

Ardyn’s brow furrows. His lips part, and he inhales--but no words follow. As if they have gone severely off-script, and he wasn’t prepared to improvise. There’s a twinge of something familiar.

Huh. What happened there? Did he get through somehow? “Let’s get some rest,” Noctis nudges.

“...As you wish,” Ardyn finally manages.

Quickly, before Ardyn changes his stupid, mulish mind, Noctis rounds the car and holds out his hand. “Come on. Let’s drink some nasty grass tea and try to sleep.” 

A beat, and Ardyn takes Noctis’s hand. Somehow, his fingers feel even colder than normal. Now that Noctis can see his face better, he really doesn’t look very good.

Noctis tugs. Ardyn doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at Noctis. Noctis can see the muscles of his jaw clenching. Irritation, perhaps even hate _ \-- _ but above all, pain and exhaustion. Ah. That bad, huh? Noctis tries to remember how Ignis did this--a long, long time ago. He widens his stance, and hovers just to Ardyn’s left. 

“May I?” he asks. 

Ardyn nods curtly, once.

Noctis reaches his free hand underneath Ardyn’s coat, slipping down until he finds a handhold--a belt?--and grabs onto it. “Okay?” Another nod. Noctis tightens his grip on Ardyn’s hand. “Count of three. One, two--”

Ardyn is heavy and very tall. Noctis nearly stumbles, but he anchors himself more firmly to the side of the car and now Ardyn is on his feet.

“There,” Noctis says, satisfied. He lets go.

Ardyn smirks at Noctis. “Was that to your liking, Highness?” The act is marred by a brief stutter in his step. 

Noctis is quick, right arm wrapping around Ardyn’s rigid back. He feels Ardyn flinch away from the sudden contact before gravity forces him to lean into it.

“It was great,” Noctis replies dryly, “but you’ll have to indulge me a bit longer.” He shifts so his one-armed hug is concealed underneath Ardyn’s coat, and guides Ardyn’s left arm to rest around Noctis’s shoulders as they slowly make their way towards the hotel. It’s very obvious how heavily Ardyn leans on Noctis, but perhaps not to anyone else--they don’t garner so much as a second look from anyone who crosses their path.

By some miracle, they don’t encounter anyone Noctis knows in the hotel lobby. Ardyn grabs the room keys from the front counter and tips his hat. (Really? The guy can barely stand on his own and--ugh. Whatever.) They make it slowly up the stairs, Noctis opens the door (with the second key, the receptionist must have misunderstood...oh well) and guides Ardyn in. The door shuts behind them, Ardyn slips out of Noctis’s grasp, and manages the few steps to his bed before sitting down (very heavily) on it. 

He looks markedly worse than before. His complexion is deathly gray, his face sags, and his breath comes far too quickly. 

“I have some elixirs. If you’re sick, though, I can call a doctor--”

“It won’t help.”

“...Oh.” Maybe Noctis should keep that second key after all. He hesitates, glancing about the room. A kettle--he knows how to use that, at least. “Do you have the tea?”

Slowly, Ardyn shifts his weight off one hand. His other arm is shaking. 

Noctis can’t watch this. He strides forward. “Tell me where it is. I can get it.”

“Front left pocket.”

Noctis slides his hand underneath Ardyn’s coat, finds the compartment with his fingers and draws out the bag. It’s slightly smushed but otherwise remarkably clean. Noctis tries to remember--just fill the kettle with water and press the button, right? As he waits, he turns to see Ardyn with his back to Noctis, still in that horribly strained sitting position in the dim hotel light. Breathing ragged, slightly hunched, and, despite his broad shoulders, looking completely unimposing. Weary. Lost and forgotten. Something twinges in Noctis’s chest.  _ Ridiculous. He’s the Imperial Chancellor, that doesn’t make any sense.  _ Nevertheless….

Ardyn startles as the bed dips under Noctis’s weight. “It’s just me,” Noctis assures.

“ _ Just  _ you,” Ardyn affirms, huffing in a poor imitation of a laugh.

“Let’s sit against the headboard,” Noctis says over Ardyn’s shoulder.

Ardyn’s eyes glint in something that looks like argument, but when he takes a breath it terminates rather abruptly into gritted teeth and silence. Noctis knows that look. He’s worn it himself too many times to count. Time to channel his inner Ignis.

“The prince of Lucis formally requests this favor of you, Chancellor.” Noctis grabs the pillows on the bed and proceeds to stuff all of them behind Ardyn. “Humor me?”

The fight (rather worryingly) quickly drains out of Ardyn’s face. “If you insist.”

Noctis nods. “Scoot back a bit.”

A bit seems to be all Ardyn can manage. Noctis’s hands hover awkwardly behind Ardyn’s head--he can all too easily envision Ardyn’s trembling arms giving out and the man’s skull bashing into the wall--but no mishaps occur. The limiting factor seems to be...ah. Legs.

Noctis jumps off the bed and assesses the situation. Ignis would probably take his coat and shoes off first, but it’s a little late for the coat, and...what the hell is Ardyn wearing on his feet anyway? Whatever. Sheets can be washed. Noctis squats down in between Ardyn’s legs, and looks straight at Ardyn’s...ah.

“While I appreciate the thought...” Ardyn starts in what is probably supposed to be a teasing tone. The strained undercurrent sort of ruins the effect. 

Noctis smirks, hoping the the hotel lighting and his hair are enough to hide his hot ears. “You wish.” He grabs Ardyn’s gaiters, one in each hand. Ardyn’s legs are weighty, but not nearly as immovable as they had been that night in the caravan, when he’d...no, Noctis. Now is not the time. “Ready?”

It takes a bit of work, but Noctis manages to (very carefully) maneuver Ardyn’s legs onto the bed, crawling on top of the sheets again in the process. What else would Ignis do? Noctis rearranges the pillows that have fallen out behind Ardyn’s back. The brim of Ardyn’s hat appears to be deforming against the headboard. Noctis plucks it from Ardyn’s head, and...there isn’t exactly a hat tree in the room.

The kettle clicks. Oh well. Noctis puts the hat on his own head. There’s a huff of amusement from Ardyn, and Noctis hops off the bed. But wait...where does the tea go? 

Noctis sighs. Him, Ignis? Who is he kidding? Noctis tosses the tea bag into the kettle. Now there’s supposed to be some sort of wait time, right?

Hmm.

Noctis yawns.

That’s probably long enough.

He pours the now colored water into two cups and turns back to Ardyn, who’s watching. Noctis carefully carries them over to the bed, and--well, on second thought…. He puts one cup on the nightstand, and climbs into the other side of the bed with Ardyn.

Noctis takes a sip, and grimaces. “Not poisoned,” he indicates, “despite how it tastes.” He brings the cup to Ardyn’s lips.

Ardyn sips from the cup contemplatively. “It could be worse.”

“Could  _ not _ ,” Noctis yawns.

“Shall I enlighten you, Your Highness?” The smirk in that voice. He just never quits, does he?

Noctis scowls. “Tch. I don’t think even your--your--you’d taste that bad.”

“ _ My _ , Noctis, where have your thoughts gone? I merely meant some of the nastier herbal remedies, you know. Especially the stronger analgesics--Wyvern’s Fire, for instance. Effective, certainly--if you can keep it down. Even just grinding so many stalks of silverweal is enough to make one gag.”

“Silver...wheel? Is that a plant?” Probably a Niflheim native or something. “You make medicine?”

The humor on Ardyn’s face slides off, exposing tight lines of pain and drooping weariness for a moment before a more neutral expression is fixed in place. Ardyn takes a very long drink from the cup. “I dabble. Most of my knowledge comes from an interest in historical texts.”

That was some reaction. Does this mean...Ardyn deals drugs? Hmm. Somehow, this is not surprising.

Somehow, they (mostly Ardyn) manage to finish. Noctis puts the cup down amid a yawn of jaw-breaking proportions.

}{

Noctis wakes up. 3am. Aww, shit. Ardyn is still sitting, eyes closed. Asleep? They open when Noctis curses. Not asleep.

“I’ll just...get the lights,” Noctis mutters, stumbling out of bed. What’s this? Oh, Ardyn’s hat. He puts it on a chair as he flicks off the lights, and then falls back into bed. 

Something feels...wrong.

Noctis squints up at Ardyn in the dim light from the door cracks. “You wanna get down here? Lie on the bed like a normal--oh. Right.” Noctis pushes himself up into a sitting position. “What d’you need?”

“I’m perfectly--”

“Right, yeah, Chancellor Stubborn Fuck.”

“Excuse me?”

Noctis squirms his arm behind Ardyn’s back. “Scoot down.”

“Bossy, are we?”

“I’ll call Ignis,” Noctis threatens.

“Oh dear. Spare me, please.”

Noctis lifts, and belatedly realizes he should probably be supporting Ardyn’s head too. Noctis grimaces, looking away from the flash of white (a disease? bulging veins? chemical burns?) as Ardyn’s head lolls. “Hope it isn’t terminal.” He repositions his arm. Ardyn’s hair is very unbrushed, with a texture like Noctis’s own.

“How  _ kind _ of you.”

It’s a bit awkward, but they manage to get Ardyn horizontal. There’s almost a palpable release of tension when Ardyn’s head meets the pillow. Pillows. Why are there so many pillows? Here, the floor can have some.

“That’s better,” Noctis declares, flopping back down on his stomach. “Wake me up next time, you idiot.”

}{

The hotel curtains really don’t do a very good job at filtering out the sunlight. Dawn? He feels awfully refreshed for dawn.

“What time is it?” Noctis mutters. 

“Ten o’clock.”

That’s not Ignis. Noctis jerks and scrambles upright before he remembers. Right.

“Did you sleep well?” Ardyn asks, closing his book and rising from the chair. (So he’s mobile again. Good.) The book cover is worn, and the title is in a language that Noctis can’t read. 

“Mm. More or less.” He had a strange dream, though. A campfire. A smiling man with two thick locks of hair, polishing a sword. Noctis doesn’t recognize the man, but he does recognize the feeling. Comfort, warmth, happiness. It was a nice dream. “What about you? Did you actually sleep?” Noctis asks.

Ardyn pauses at the edge of the bed and places his hat on Noctis’s head. It smells good. “I did,” Ardyn admits. It doesn’t seem like a lie--he does look substantially better. 

“Good,” Noctis nods and reaches into his pocket. There are a slew of missed texts from Ignis.

_ [6:58] Good morning, Noctis. I hope you did not stay out all night. _

_ [7:30] The hotel staff have informed me they saw someone matching your description check in with an “older man.” I do hope you used protection. _

_ [7:50] If you want breakfast, now is the time. _

_ [8:06] Too late. Gladio’s eaten your share. _

_ [9:00] I’m headed to the library. _

From Prompto:

_ [7:31] DUUUUDE AKSDIDIWKKRJDJDJ  _

_ [7:31] YOU WERE ACTUALLY DOING IT??? WITH ARDYN???  _

_ [7:32] DAMN IT _

And from Gladio:

_ [7:31] Knew it. ;] _

Noctis groans. “Fuck.”

}{

In the lobby, Prompto’s eyes widen upon seeing Noctis. He doubles over, coughing. Gladio slaps him on the back, gaze sliding between Noctis and Ardyn.

“Nice,” Gladio comments.

“It’s not what you think,” Noctis immediately says.

“It--isn’t?” Prompto chokes out hopefully.

“We merely slept together,” Ardyn clarifies.

“We--Ardyn!”

“Am I wrong?” Ardyn asks, smirking.

“Y-you didn’t have to say it like  _ that,”  _ Noctis sputters.

“Wait, so you actually…?” Prompto asks.

“N-not like--!”

“He’s wearing Ardyn’s hat, Prompto. What do you think happened?” 

Aw, crap. He forgot. Noctis hurriedly removes the hat, reaches up ( _ why does the bastard have to be so tall? _ ), and replaces it on Ardyn’s head. 

Gladio smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Come on. Let’s go catch up with Iggy.”

They start walking out of the lobby. Prompto groans. “What happened, Noct? I believed in you.” He surreptitiously hands over something to Gladio.

“Is that--money? You guys were  _ betting _ ?” Noctis demands, horrified.

Ardyn sighs. “Aww, poor Prompto. Were you hoping for a go as well?”

“ _ Ardyn!”  _ Noctis shoves the walking, talking dick beside him. It is not very effective, and yields only further laughter.

Prompto’s face is beet red, the color spreading to his neck and down his arms. “Wha--no!” He shudders. Then, more quietly as they enter the library, “Eugh, seriously, Noct? Why’d you have to pick this one?” 

“This discussion is over,” Noctis whispers vehemently.

Once they find him, Ignis only spares Ardyn an appraising once-over. 

“Chancellor Izunia,” Ignis greets. “Thank you for seeing Noctis here. I’m sure you have important matters to attend to….”

Ardyn shrugs. “Not really.”

Noctis rolls his eyes.

“In that case,” Ignis continues stiffly, “perhaps you could lend us your expertise. What do you know of the Lucian kings’ powers?”

Ardyn raises an eyebrow. “You would ask the Imperial Chancellor?”

“You seem like the  _ knowledgeable _ type.” Gladio crosses his arms.

“Certainly quite some knowledge of the old kings,” Ignis says.

“Well read, at least,” Noctis supplies, though he doesn’t really know where Ignis is going with this.

“If you insist,” Ardyn concedes once sufficiently flattered. “The kings were gifted the power of Light, long ago. It runs through their veins, from which they can take to erect walls, commune with elemental powers, bestow healing properties upon sugary drinks and the like...scholars have discussed this power for millennia, and I daresay they never will finish. Is there a specific subject you had in mind, Mr. Scientia?”

“Anything regarding powers beyond death?”

“Well now, there’s the bonding of souls, which connects Lucian kings over all generations--hardly a trivial feat. The energy expenditure of this connection alone….” Even about this particular subset of topics, Ardyn talks for a very long time. After the bonding of souls is the Wall, then the Ring of the Lucii--everything Noctis has already heard before. It’s Prompto, of all people, who manage to break the monologue with a nervous “well, looks like it’s time for lunch!” at which point Ardyn indicates he has a library book to return (the one he was reading that morning, in fact), and they make their escape.

“We’re free!” Prompto collapses onto a bench outside. “Man, I thought it would never end.”

“The guy likes the sound of his own voice,” Gladio surmises. “You like it too,” he tosses at Noctis.

“I was just listening for...important information,” Noctis defends. So what if Ardyn has a...more tonal voice than most? 

“And yet, your attention never outlasts the first few words of my reports,” Ignis sighs.

“That’s not true,” Noctis says. Ignis raises an eyebrow. “Maybe just the economic ones,” Noctis concedes. “This was totally your fault though, Specs! Why did you have to ask him about all that?”

“I was researching the subject of your...supposed resurrections.” 

Prompto sits straight up. “Oh yeah! What the hell, man!” Prompto kicks Noctis. “Why don’t you tell us stuff like that?”

“It...didn’t seem important?” Noctis tries.

“ _ Noct,”  _ Ignis says. 

“Well, it’s not like I was staying dead,” Noctis mutters. “Not something you had to worry about.”

Gladio snorts. “That just makes us worry  _ more.  _ Idiot.”

“Next time,” Ignis says gently.

}{

It turns out that there is no record of this ability in the Lucis Caelum line--at least, none documented in the Lestallum library. As far as other methods of resurrection go, they’re not having much luck.

Gladio taps the table between them, eyes scanning over the pages of a dusty book. “All right, listen to this.

“As the last day approached, his followers came to him and said, ‘This place is yet full of the sick and dying. Send the rest away, that they may find healing elsewhere.’ 

“He replied, ‘They need look nowhere else. Cut the ribbon around the grounds. Bring it to me.’

“And he directed the people to sit on the steppe. He closed his eyes, he took the ribbon, and it was blessed. Then he gave it to his followers, who gave each of the people one small piece of the ribbon. 

“‘By this token shall I be with them always,’ he said. ‘In thirty days and thirty nights, shall they all be healed.’ And Lo, on the thirty-first day, were all one thousand men, women, and children well.”

Gladio shuts the book. 

“Dude, what?” Prompto frowns. “What is that?”

“ _ Tales of the Sage, _ ” Ignis reads off the spine. “It states nothing regarding revival.”

Gladio yawns. “Yeah, there’s some other story in here about this ‘sage’ resurrecting some man for being faithful or whatever.” He drops the book in the center of the table. “It’s even less believable than the magical ribbon one.”

“How is this relevant?” Noctis asks. “I don’t have any ribbon.”

“Hell if I know. You got anything better?” Gladio challenges.

Noctis sighs, catching Prompto’s eye. 

Prompto shakes his head. “I found a story about some witch? From the woods. Lots of spirits and ghosts. She lived in an abandoned treehouse! Brr.” Prompto shivers.

“Are you talking about  _ Selena the Witch? _ ” Noctis asks.

“Oh, yeah! That was her name.”

“Those books were  _ amazing, _ ” Noctis declares. “Selena’s magical motorcycle was incredible, I always wanted to get one just like it. But I could never figure out what the serpent seat actually looked like, did you…” Suddenly, Noctis’s brain catches up with his mouth. A little tangle of knots is growing in his gut. Gladio is grinning very widely at him. “N-never mind.”

“Strictly fiction, I’m afraid. I can verify this, as Noctis has met with the author,” Ignis concludes.

“Aww,” Prompto groans. “You have some serious guts reading this stuff.” 

“Damn right,” Noctis grumbles. The knots loosen again. “Specs?”

“Help us, Iggy. You’re our last hope,” Prompto says. “Oh, unless Iris--”

“ _ No,”  _ Gladio repeats. “We’re not dragging her into this.”

“All right, all right,” Prompto concedes, hands raised placatingly.

“I found a few articles regarding the methods used by necromancers to revive the dead,” Ignis says.

“You mean  _ daemons _ ?” Prompto asks.

“I’m not a daemon,” Noctis clarifies.

“I’m well aware,” Ignis says dryly. “Their methods are partially based on the control of the Starscourge within the previously deceased, but could potentially be worked in Light as well. It’s only theory, but the calculation appears to be correct. There are a few implications for both the spellcaster and recipient, some which appear to threaten the recipient’s life….”

“Kinda defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?” Gladio points out.

“Indeed,” Ignis agrees.

So in the end, they don’t have anything particularly promising. Ignis grills Noctis on his symptoms (“chest tightness, yeah”) a little too thoroughly (“diaphragm stiffness? what does that feel like?”) and takes careful notes. 

Noctis wakes up to Prompto shaking him. “Hey. Noct. Library’s closing, they’re kicking us out.”

Noctis peels his face off the table. “Got it.” 

They’re quiet on the way back. It’s rather cool for Lestallum tonight, and the breeze wakes Noctis quite effectively. His pocket buzzes. 

“Cor?” Noctis answers.”

“We’ve found a way to Altissia.”

}{

They meet Monica to obtain details of the route. It should have taken, at most, a few hours. It ends up taking the entire day.

“That was...a lot of blockades,” Noctis groans, collapsing into a chair. 

“Did we have to come all the way back to Lestallum?” Prompto asks the ceiling.

“How was I supposed to know we’d have to go through everything twice?” How the hell did they regroup so fast?

“You could have tried listening to Monica,” Gladio says.

Noctis grimaces. “I was listening! She said the Regalia would be hard to fix.”

“The Imperial blockades from here to Hammerhead are numerous,” Ignis confirms. “It would cost us at least a week and gain us the attention of the entire Niflheim army to go through all of them. We’d have to defend the Regalia as well as Cindy’s tow truck  _ while  _ fighting.” 

As usual, Noctis remembers a vague generality, and Ignis supplies the important details. Thank the gods for Ignis.

“You want to just--keep it here?” Prompto asks.

“It could additionally serve as some manner of diversion, if we’re discreet about leaving. Let Niflheim think we’re still here,” Ignis adds.

“Maybe we could ask Ardyn,” Noctis suggests.

“No,” Gladio says firmly.

Noctis huffs. “I know, we’re not supposed to trust him, but come  _ on _ .”

“‘Supposed to’ is--” Ignis takes a deep breath. “ _ Do  _ you trust him?”

“No,” Noctis says defensively, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“Noct,” Gladio says.

“He’s been helping us,” Noctis grumbles. 

Ignis rubs his temple. “A couple of nights ago,” he begins. “Might I ask what occurred between the two of you? Aside from...intimacy.”

“For the love of--” Noctis sighs. Might as well give in. He’s never going to win this one anyway. “I went to meet Ardyn outside. We booked a room, slept, woke up, and went downstairs. Prompto and Gladio met us there.”

“In your private...talks, have you identified any efforts on his behalf to gain your trust?”

“Not particularly?”

“This could be something like doing you a favor, beyond what he’s already done. Encouraging you to open up to him.”

Noctis half-snorts before he can stop himself. “Definitely not.”

“Whether the Chancellor helps or not,” Gladio says, “If you’re gonna be that worried about the Empire kidnapping our car, you’d need to keep worrying through every blockade we pass after the car’s fixed.”

“What if we got the type-D upgrade?” Prompto suggests. “We could just go around the blockades, like with the chocobos.”

“Except if they blockade a bridge. Or a mountain road,” Ignis says.

“Unless Cindy can make the Regalia fly or something. And then we wouldn’t need a boat to Altissia in the first place.” Gladio says. 

“But...can we really just leave it here?” Noctis asks.

“Not what I meant,” Gladio says. “We could take the car to Hammerhead and keep it there. Let Cindy keep an eye on it.”

Yeah, that sounds good. “Still, Ardyn’s just going to be following us anyway. It might be better to keep him in sight,” Noctis points out.

Silence.

“A fair point,” Ignis concedes.

“Just try to keep it in your pants,” Gladio says.

}{

“All set?” Ardyn asks.

Ignis stands stiffly beside Ardyn’s car. Gladio’s arms are crossed on the opposite side. Prompto’s nervous but delighted laughter drifts over from a few feet away. Cindy smiles and waves as she catches Noctis’s eye.

“Yeah,” Noctis says.

Ardyn opens the passenger side door and sweeps his arm in a grand gesture. He smirks at Noctis.  _ “Please,”  _ he says, that one low, honeyed syllable setting Noctis’s entire face on fire. How the hell…? Noctis falls into the seat, and Ardyn gently shuts the door behind him, fingers brushing against Noctis’s arm before rounding the car. 

“I must say, Noctis,” Ardyn drawls, “I was expecting your visit, but a request of a rather different nature.”

“Your gracious aid is much appreciated,” Ignis bites out in the back seat.

“Sorry for interrupting your busy schedule,” Gladio adds in a voice that doesn’t sound very sorry at all.

Ardyn starts the car. “Oh, it’s no trouble. Rather a pleasant surprise!” He turns onto the road and winks at Noctis. Behind them, Gladio very clearly does not roll his eyes. Farther behind, Cindy and Prompto pull onto the road as well, a little more slowly.

Noctis doesn’t speak. Nobody else does either. Ardyn presses a button and grand instrumental music pours forth from the car’s surprisingly serviceable speakers. It’s oddly soothing. 

Classical music in his ears, the wind in his hair, ass in the front seat of Ardyn’s car. Yet again. It shouldn’t be comfortable--this is the Imperial Chancellor for fuck’s sake--and yet….

Noctis jerks out of his trance as cold fingers touch his wrist.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Ardyn says.

“It’s nothing.”

“Oh, don’t be shy, Noctis. You can tell me.”

Almost without thinking, Noctis shifts so that Ardyn’s fingers meet his palm instead. He closes his own fingers around them.

“Just...there’s something. Different. About you,” Noctis manages.

“Thinking of  _ me?  _ Aww.” Ardyn leans in. “I’m right here, you know,” he purrs into Noctis’s ear.

There’s a very loud throat clearing noise from the backseat. Noctis jumps. Ardyn chuckles and straightens up again. They’re approaching a blockade, but Ardyn doesn’t appear to be slowing down.

“Just relax. Take a nap, if you wish. We’ll arrive before you know it.” The blockade before them opens and lets them through without comment.

“No one is sleeping in your car,” Noctis grumbles, firmly grabbing Ardyn’s hand to replace it in his own damned lap--

Except, something feels...odd. Noctis looks down, inspecting Ardyn’s hand. There’s nothing on the glove itself, but he can feel a hard, raised edge. Noctis traces it with his thumb, from the middle of Ardyn’s palm near the base of his ring finger down and across, curving around the outer edge of his hand to the back in a nearly symmetrical fashion. It feels almost like the rolled cuff under the glove at Ardyn’s wrist, but...what is it here?

Noctis glances up, and the question dies on his lips. Ardyn is looking directly at him with an intensity ( _ hatehatehatehurthate)  _ that Noctis can’t return, but...he can’t just let it go like this.

Instead, Noctis brings Ardyn’s hand up and presses his lips to the palm, over the path Noctis’s thumb had just traveled. No resistance from Ardyn. He turns it over and does the same on the back.

Ardyn’s lips are slightly parted in a way that his raised brows and frown indicate is entirely unintentional. Noctis smirks. There it is--his win. He lowers the hand to his lap.

}{

Noctis awakens to Gladio’s hand clapping his shoulder. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

Hammerhead looks the same as they’d left it. Cindy is parking the truck. Noctis moves to open the door, except somehow both his hands have sandwiched Ardyn’s right, and all their fingers are laced together. Huh. Ardyn’s hand is a little warmer now--closer to the ambient evening air than the inside of a freezer.

“May I?” Ardyn asks, with a slight tug. Noctis feels his ears rise to much higher than ambient temperature as he suddenly realizes what he’s doing, and quickly (but not too quickly) untangles their fingers, pulling his own--no, that would be too hasty--just the top hand away. Ardyn’s hand lingers a bit before it goes ( _reluctantly?)_ to shift the car into park and kill the engine. 

“Do practice some discretion,” Ignis mutters in Noctis’s ear. He exits first. Gladio follows suit, slipping Noctis a small bottle of--fuck’s sake, really?--before he leaves. 

Noctis opens the car door before he stops. “Are you staying?”

Ardyn chuckles. “Does His Highness still wish for me to stay?”

Noctis sees it very briefly--a flash of bright eyes on an unmistakable black coat, before Umbra disappears behind the garage. 

Luna. They need to make sure Luna is okay, and this is the fastest way there.

Noctis scowls and stuffs the bottle deep within his pocket. “Yes,” he mumbles. He will  _ not  _ be ‘sleeping with’ Ardyn tonight. (Or ever.)

}{

In the morning, Cindy informs them that it’ll take more than a few spare parts.

“If y’all wanna wait, it might take a while to get her up and running,” Cindy admits.

“That’s perfectly fine. We were merely hoping you’d help us keep an eye on the Regalia in our absence,” Ignis says.

“Y’all sure about that?” Cindy asks. “If ya want, I can lend you a rental--and you won’t have to ride in  _ that man’s _ car.”

“He isn’t that ba--” Noctis stops. Everyone is staring at him. Ardyn hasn’t even joined them at the garage, and they’d literally  _ just  _ talked about this.  _ Don’t mess up, Noct. _ “I mean. Yeah. We’ll take a rental.”

“Oh, Cindy! You’re so nice,” Prompto gushes.

“Thanks,” Noctis belatedly manages.

}{

“So you’re riding with your boyfriend, right?” Gladio asks, getting into the slightly cramped backseat of the rental. 

“He--he’s not my--”

“Try to make sure he goes slowly. This vehicle can’t handle much,” Ignis comments.

“Have fun,” Prompto waves. 

“So much for respecting royalty,” Noctis grumbles as he makes his way to Ardyn’s car.

“It’s a long way to Steyliff Grove,” Ardyn says, starting the engine. The music from before comes on again. 

“Yeah,” Noctis shrugs. “Is it a problem?”

“Hardly. But since your friends won’t be joining us, perhaps you could stretch out and take a nap…?”

“I’m not lying down in the backseat like some--some ill child,” Noctis objects.

“Oh? Then perhaps in the front?” Ardyn pats his lap. Noctis’s eyes linger for a half-second too long. 

“You wish,” Noctis denies vehemently, leaning his shoulder against the car door.

Ardyn chuckles. “Suit yourself.”

The door isn’t very actually very comfortable, so Noctis shoves off it after a while, slumping against the back of the seat. Ardyn’s smirking. Insufferable bastard.

Noctis glances back. “Slow down a bit.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll lose them. The rental is even shittier than your car.” 

“My word!” Ardyn looks positively affronted. “You do realize she can hear you,” he says reproachfully.

A very undignified laugh escapes Noctis’s nose. “I apologize, Ardyn’s car,” he says.

“Vixen.”

Noctis sputters. “Wh--what did you--”

“Her name is Vixen.”

The car. The car’s name. Noctis groans, sliding down in the seat. Ardyn pats the top of Noctis’s head. “You’re gonna mess up my hair,” Noctis grumbles, grabbing Ardyn’s hand and ruffling Ardyn’s hair in retaliation. There’s a flare of surprise, stiffening, and then retaliation.

Noctis yelps as the car swerves and he’s thrown to the side. Ardyn grins. “ _ So  _ sorry,” he apologizes.

About fifteen minutes and several shoulder-to-car-door impacts later, Noctis suddenly remembers why they started. “Hey, pull over a sec.” He scans the horizon behind the car.

“Why?”

“Uh, we lost them?”

“So we have.”

“ _ Ardyn.” _

“Yes?”

“I’ll--I’ll-- _ tickle you. _ ” Noctis leans in, turning his face to avoid Ardyn’s shoulder and slipping his hands beneath Ardyn’s coat. Ardyn flinches, and there’s a sharp gasp. Noctis grins into the scarf. Let’s see how long he can hold back.

The car careens dangerously before Ardyn pulls very abruptly to a stop, jostling Noctis out of position before Ardyn grabs a fistful of his shirt and slams him back against the seat. The engine goes silent, and Noctis’s arms are pinned. Shit.

Noctis’s heart stutters. Suddenly, Ardyn’s face is very close to his own, and there are cold lips on his lips and a cold tongue in his mouth and suddenly, it’s gone.

“Was that what you wanted, Highness?” Ardyn taunts, gaze flickering over Noctis’s stunned face before pulling back. Disgust ( _ for Noctis, yes, but also…) _ . “I didn’t think so.” 

Oh, Six. Has he pushed it too far? Noctis can feel the tenuous connection between them threatening to snap, and he can’t let that happen. He surges forward, and--

Ardyn’s eyes widen before Noctis’s close, and he feels Ardyn’s involuntary inhale between his lips. The grip on his wrists goes slack. Noctis trails his hands up Ardyn’s sleeves, resting one around his broad shoulders, the other continuing (gently) over the tall collar, past scratchy stubble and into coarse, windswept hair to cup the back of Ardyn’s head. Yes, his mouth is still cold. But it’s not actually bad--the experience is kind of like eating mochi ice cream. Or rather, licking one that--ah, now it licks back, and even bites a little bit--

Right, time to end that analogy.

There’s a shift of fabric, a pressure up Noctis’s back and suddenly cold fingers in his neck. Noctis shudders, tightening his hold on Ardyn, and shit, he can  _ feel himself _ swelling with want. It pulses, twitching as those fingers slide down his nape, beneath his shirt, and Noctis can’t help the sound that escapes his throat or the way his hips press forward--

_ HONK. _

“Mmgah!” Noctis jerks back, and Ardyn lets him. Past Ardyn’s amused smile is Gladio leaning over the front seat, pressing the horn.

Noctis hastily straightens his shirt and tries to fix his hair.

“Finally caught up, have we?” Ardyn calls, starting up the engine again.

“Your consideration in...waiting is greatly appreciated,” Ignis replies.

Noctis can feel the burn spread from his ears to his face and down his neck as Ardyn’s car pulls into the road again. He shifts in the seat, trying to smooth out his pants. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem anatomically possible at the moment. He stares miserably at the tented fabric, trying to cross his legs in such a way--

“Would you like some help with that?”

Noctis jumps. “Wh-what--”

Ardyn’s right hand leaves the wheel and reaches over, palm cupping Noctis’s tip through the fabric. Noctis holds back the second half of his gasp, but does not successfully keep his hips from pushing forward into Ardyn’s fingers.

“Hmm. Eager, are we?” 

And then, he begins to stroke. Slow, long, tortuous strokes, shallower than Noctis is used to due to the pants, but it’s more than enough to drive Noctis mad. His hips jerk upwards a little--no, don’t do that--and he bites his lip, hands clenching hard in his jacket and pinning its edge down to the seat. 

Ardyn chuckles,  _ low _ and throaty, what right has he to that kind of sound,  _ gods,  _ his  _ voice.  _ “Oh, Noctis. You’ll pass out if you keep holding your breath like that.”

Is that what he’s doing? Shit, it is. Noctis gasps great lungfuls of air, unable to suppress his whimper as Ardyn’s pace quickens...and then slows again. Faster, faster...and then slower. So close, and--it aches, Six, he needs more,  _ more,  _ desperation fueling his thrusts into Ardyn’s hand now, just a little more,  _ please please please I have to I need to I-- _

“Come,” Ardyn encourages, and that’s all it takes.

Noctis cries out, pleasure bursting through him, arching and pressing against Ardyn’s cold fingers as much as he can, wave after wave of Noctis’s hot fluid spilling forth.

“Marvelous,” Ardyn comments, shifting the car into park. “We’re here.”

}{

On the plus side, Noctis’s pants only show a tiny speck of wetness, his boxers having probably soaked up most of it. On the minus side, Noctis has to go through a fucking dungeon after coming in his fucking pants.

It’s not a very enjoyable experience (although Noctis only dies twice to the Quetzalcoatl). However, they do manage not only to acquire the mythril, but also to acquire another royal arm. Noctis has really had enough with being impaled lately. This isn’t the kind of impaling he was really thinking about anyw--

Ugh. This is disgusting.

“We have the mythril,” he tells Holly after he walks all the way to Lestallum. In these pants. He resists the urge to adjust them.

“Great! I’ve been having a little problem at the power plant lately,” Holly begins. 

Oh, no. 

“Noct? You okay, buddy?” Prompto asks.

“Fine,” Noctis manages. “We’ll take care of it.”

}{

“The boat will be ready this evening,” Ignis says. 

Noctis grins, sitting up in bed. “Already? All right, let’s go!”

“Someone’s happy,” Gladio approves. “Lost that scowl you were wearing around yesterday?”

_ I had a shower,  _ Noctis doesn’t say. “Just...feeling refreshed.”

They pile into the clunky rental (Ardyn had business of his own to attend to--quite reasonably) and make their way down to Cape Caem, plowing through the blockades and most of the day before reaching the hidden harbor. Iris, Talcott, and Jared are there to greet them as well as Cid inside the lighthouse, and Cor beneath it, just beside King Regis.

“Hey Dad,” Noctis greets, more casually than he would have in court, in this same company. “You came to see us off?”

“Oh, I’m still good for a little more than that,” Regis protests, eyes sparkling. He looks better than he did when Noctis first saw him again, but the shadows under his eyes are still there.

“We will be coming with you,” Cor says.

“All of you?” Noctis asks.

“Iris and Talcott are staying here,” Cor says. “They’ll be helping take care of matters on this side of the sea.” 

“Wouldn’t it be safer for His Majesty to stay here?” Ignis asks.

“Course it would,” Cid says. “But that traveling hospital ain't on this continent. And it doesn’t matter what he says, old Reggie don’t look healed to me.”

An old argument, it seems. Regis lets out a sigh.

“Makes sense. The Oracle’s in Altissia, so any hospital she operates is more likely around there,” Gladio says.

Noctis nods. “To Altissia, then.”

}{

The walls of water are grander than Noctis could have imagined, or any photograph could have conveyed. He’s almost too busy gawking that he misses the story Ignis has decided upon for customs. 

When they arrive, they don’t spot him at first. Eventually, though, they see a man beside a gondola port, wearing a long black hooded robe of some sort. He pulls it back upon seeing them, revealing very closely cropped white hair and beard, and--

There’s a shout beside Noctis, and Gladio runs past.

“Hey, big guy!” Noctis calls. Gladio is embracing the figure in a very uncharacteristically warm way, which...ah.

“Clarus,” Ignis greets, a small smile on his lips. 

“Whoa! That’s his dad!” Prompto exclaims from behind his camera. “I thought he’d….”

“Yeah,” Noctis nods. He can’t help the grin on his face.

“Prince Noctis. Regis. It’s good to see you,” Clarus greets.

“Clarus,” Regis grins, clapping his Shield on the back.

“You could’ve called,” Gladio says gruffly.

Clarus hesitates. “I could not.”

It turns out that he’d been busy securing accomodations to Altissia, sneaking under the Empire’s radar. Only the Marshal and King Regis had known Clarus’s fate. Yes, there were others who survived the attack. No, he couldn’t say how many.

“The old boat was our idea. We--Cor and I--made sure it would be secure there before we notified you.”

“An excellent choice, considering the Regalia’s condition,” Ignis comments.

“Indeed,” Clarus says, as if he already knew about it (seriously, how many people are stalking them?). “There are a few Kingsglaive here with me who also managed to stowaway on incoming merchant ships. Weskham and I made the necessary arrangements with Secretary Claustra as well--all so your boat would arrive without complications.”

“Seems like a lot of work for a boat,” Noctis crosses his arms.

“We don’t serve the boat, Prince Noctis,” Clarus says. 

}{

Clarus and Cor take Regis, while Cid hangs back and “gets some air.” In this case, it probably means “air that Regis isn’t also breathing.”

“Gonna tell Iris,” Gladio says, pulling out his phone.

Now that they’re alone again, Prompto seems to finally relax a little. “Ah, Altissia. So you’re finally gonna see Lady Luna.”

“Yeah.”

They pass a chatting couple. “Seems the wedding dress is still on display,” Ignis comments.

The wedding. The false wedding. Of course he wants to see Luna--it’s been twelve years, and he’s never had a girl friend (friend who’s a girl, of course, not a...a  _ girlfriend _ ) quite like her before or since. The wedding announcement was so sudden, and--well, surely Luna wouldn’t have felt (still feel?)  _ that  _ way about him. Surely.

“-oct. Noct.” Ignis’s voice cuts through his thoughts. 

“Yeah?” Noctis responds, not at all as if he was listening.

“It’s almost time to meet with the others,” Ignis reminds him. 

Ah. “Right.”

The ride to Maagho is serene and beautiful, and the cool night breeze accompanying the motion of the gondola pulls Noctis out of his own head enough to enjoy the view. When they arrive, the restaurant is quite lively. Cid leans against the counter opposite the proprietor (probably the “Weskham” Clarus had mentioned), who’s facing a seated Regis, who’s flanked by both Cor and Clarus. 

Noctis steps off the gondola and pauses. His father is smiling, a devious light in his eyes, turning to tell Weskham something. Weskham looks affronted, Cor roars with laughter, Clarus grins--then Cid barks something that rouses a bout of laughter from everyone. Weskham adjusts his monocle in Ignis-like fashion, and Clarus claps Regis on the back in Gladio-like fashion. 

They look happy together. Noctis’s father hasn’t looked this happy since...since, well. Ever. (Happier without Noctis. Maybe he should just leave, get back in the gondola and--)

Regis’s gaze catches on Noctis, and his face somehow brightens even further. He raises his arm and waves in a beckoning motion.

“C’mon, Noct. What are you waiting for?” Gladio, just to the right. Ignis, to the left. Prompto, just a little behind. And just ahead....

“A-ah…” Noctis smiles. Something warm and bright is blooming in his chest. “Nothing. Let’s go.” 

}{

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altissia at last! Enjoy your happiness while it lasts...Leviathan is coming for you. C;<

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have time, please leave a comment to let me know what you think.


End file.
